Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.
James Baldwin

Chapter 1

Harry woke up lying on moss, surrounded by ferns and one small man who blinked wide, blue eyes at him.

Hermione’s ritual had worked. Well, at least in so far that it had transported Harry to somewhere else from where he’d performed the ritual. If it was a whole new world remained to be seen.

The small man started talking excitedly.

“I’m sorry, I do not speak your language,” Harry said, suddenly overcome with anxiety. It had never occurred to him that moving to a whole new world meant he’d have to learn a whole new language. Yet in hindsight, it seemed rather obvious that English was not the common tongue in the multiverse. But even Hermione hadn’t mentioned it when she’d taught him the ritual. Either she had forgotten it as well, or more likely, she’d assumed Harry would realize this.

The small man nodded in understanding and straightened himself up, pounding on his own chest. “Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.”

Harry got the meaning of that well enough. “Harry. Harry Potter.” He tapped himself on the chest a few times.

“Harry Potter,” Bilbo Baggins repeated and then leaned over to vigorously shake Harry’s hand. He seemed like a very good-natured fellow, for which Harry was more than grateful. The ritual hadn’t been able to necessarily deposit you somewhere safe, only somewhere in a new world. But so far Harry’s surroundings and Harry’s companion seemed safe enough.

Slowly, Harry managed to get to his feet. He was still wearing all his clothing and his backpack, which was another huge bonus. It meant that he still had all his earthly belongings he’d wanted to take with him. This included lots of gold and silver, plus a tent stocked with lots of food. Hermione had warned him to take enough provisions so he could survive on his own for up to a year if need be and Harry had listened to her.

Harry had to assume everything was still in place because he had a companion now who gently tugged on the sleeve of Harry’s brown leather jacket, urging him to come along. Harry wasn’t about to use magic in front of someone until he had a good understanding of how that individual felt about magic in the first place.

Bilbo was also a chatty fellow and he kept repeating words as he pointed at things. They made their way out of the small cops of trees where Harry had landed to a dirt road that seemed to lead to a settlement in the distance. The sun was setting and it was hard to make out how large exactly the cluster of small buildings he could see in the distance truly was.

Bilbo led the way with confident steps and Harry trudged along, slightly dazed that the ritual had actually worked. Bilbo was no more than three feet tall, but he was most certainly not a child. He carried a large pack on his back and a sturdy walking stick in his hand and he clearly had places to be. He also didn’t wear shoes but instead walked on large feet covered in hair.

Harry started suspecting Bilbo might not be human, but he had no idea what he actually was. He’d never seen a being like Bilbo before. Was he immortal? Was that why the ritual had dropped Harry off near him?

That was the only direction Harry had given while he’d performed the ritual. That he be transported to a world where there were immortal people Harry could live with.

The settlement was surrounded by a thick, stone wall and Bilbo pounded on the wooden gate. A small hatch opened, revealing a regular size human. Bilbo talked to him for a moment and the man opened the gate readily enough.

What Harry saw filled him with dread.

He’d landed in the middle ages. He’d actually fucking landed in a place where indoor plumbing hadn’t been invented yet. The streets of the small town were full of mud, the people were grimy, their clothes looking like they hadn’t been washed in a few weeks and the whole place reeked of manure. Pigs lived in people’s backyards while chickens pecked around the muddy streets. Horses were everywhere, and so was their poop.

Harry swallowed and got the impression he’d just made a huge mistake, coming here. He’d have been much better off back home, even if he had to watch every person he’d ever loved die of old age while he stayed forever young.

Bilbo wasn’t perturbed by the mud and the shit and walked happily along on his bare feet towards a place that looked like an inn. Harry thanked his lucky stars he’d found Bilbo because without him Harry would have been lost. Bilbo entered the dark space filled with smoke and smelly people first and Harry followed him, trying not to grimace too much. Bilbo clearly ordered them food and accommodations from the innkeeper, and Harry quickly pulled his small money pouch from his pocket when Bilbo got ready to hand the innkeeper some coins.

“Please, let me,” Harry insisted, pulling out a handful of silver sickles, feeling that was the least he could do. He had no idea how much anything cost so he quickly placed the silver on the counter. He had plenty of gold if that wasn’t enough. The innkeeper’s eyes widened above his bushy beard. Bilbo quickly placed his hand on Harry’s arm when Harry wanted to fish out more coins from his pouch and gave the innkeeper some additional instructions but what they were, Harry had no idea.

Okay, apparently the silver was enough for whatever they needed. Bilbo grabbed hold of Harry’s sleeve again and pulled him along, bossy little fellow that he was. They ended up sitting at a table near a blazing fire and a server brought them pints of watery ale and bowls of hearty stew. Harry saw what he was sure were carrots and potatoes and what were most assuredly chunks of mystery meat. Harry decided not to question their origins too much and instead tucked into the stew. It was a little bland but perfectly edible and Harry had been hungry too often in his early life that he’d ever turn down a good meal.

Bilbo pulled out an old-fashioned pipe, stuffed it with some dried leaves and lit it with the candle on their table right after they finished their stew. Then he started speaking again, puffing on his pipe, and it dawned on Harry that he was saying specific words of specific items. He’d pick up the bowl, and say a word. The spoon, say a different word.

Fucking hell, Bilbo was teaching him the local language. Harry burst out in delighted laughter once he realized that. Bilbo in turn rolled his eyes and started over. Bowl, a word.

Harry dutifully repeated the word, strange pronunciation and all. This time Bilbo gave Harry an expectant look and even gestured at Harry with the bowl. It took a few moments before he realized what Bilbo wanted.

Harry pointed at the bowl and said, “Bowl.”

“Ball,” Bilbo tried.

Harry shook his head and talked a little slower. “Bowl.”

“Bawl,” Bilbo said with a satisfied grin.

“Close enough.” Next was the spoon and then the candleholder and candle on their table and every other item in close range. Harry repeated what Bilbo said, and Bilbo in turn repeated what Harry said, utterly delighted by the idea of learning a new language.

After an hour of this game, and two more pints of watery ale, a server came to fetch them to take them to their rooms. Bilbo apparently got a room sized for people like him, and Harry got a room made for human beings. There was a chamber pot sitting in the corner and Harry gratefully made use of it since his bladder was close to bursting. He hadn’t want to mime pissing in the middle of the inn to figure out where the toilets were. Though Harry doubted they actually had toilets. Probably just holes in the ground right next to the stinky pigs.

As Harry crawled in the rickety bed with its lumpy mattress he heaved a deep sigh. So far the experience was interesting but also slightly worrying. If this was what the whole world looked like Harry was in for a miserable existence. Of course he had magic and could create a perfectly comfortable house for himself but how was he ever to explain that to the muggles around him.

Hopefully Harry could tag along with Bilbo to wherever it was he was going. It couldn’t be much worse than this shithole.

Harry slept restlessly, waking up a few times during the night. He kept seeing the faces of his friends. Sometimes as young Hogwarts students and sometimes as the old people they were before they passed away, with their white hair and wrinkled faces.

Harry’s face remained the same since the day he’d become Master of Death. The only change was that he no longer wore glasses since he’d gotten his eyes fixed with an expensive potion during Auror training.

The server from before, a woman in her thirties with a full bosom wearing a long, thick dress, brought Harry a bowl of warm water the next morning with a few cloths to wash with. Harry used them, even though he could easily clean himself with his wand. But he didn’t want to seem like a dirty person who couldn’t be bothered to wash up in the morning, so he used the muggle way instead. He did give his clothing a bit of a onceover with his wand to get rid of the worst of the dirt and smells.

Bilbo was waiting for him in the main room of the inn and waved him over with a huge grin. Harry’s smile was equally as enthusiastic since he was truly relieved Bilbo still wanted Harry to tag along. Breakfast was chunks of dark bread with bowls of soup, which Harry suspected was just the stew from last night with more water added to it. Whatever it was, it was filling and that’s what mattered.

Bilbo immediately started grilling Harry on all the words they’d exchanged the previous evening and Harry was pleased to realize he remembered almost all of them. Only shoes and window tripped him up. Bilbo, clever little fellow that he was, remembered every single English word. Since the room was slightly better lit than it had been the previous evening, Harry could make out the other patrons a bit better. Most of them seemed to be humans in various grades of dirtiness. But there were also a few others of Bilbo’s kind, with their short statures and large, bare feet. Harry only now noticed a third kind of people. In the corner sat two stocky individuals with long hair and large beards. They were shorter than the average human but not quite as small as Bilbo’s kind.

If Harry had to call them anything, he would call them dwarves. Bilbo also noticed the two maybe dwarves and gave them rather forlorn looks.

The innkeeper himself came to fetch them for some reason, and Bilbo immediately picked up his heavy pack and gestured at Harry to come along. Harry swung his own backpack over his shoulder and followed them out of the inn. The shithole town didn’t look any better in daylight than it did in darkness. Everything was still shitty and grimy and muddy.

In front of the inn stood a boy no older than thirteen holding onto the reigns of a small, white pony and a bigger, brown horse.

Bilbo gestured to them, chattering a mile a minute, and it took a few moments before Harry realized what was happening. Apparently Harry’s silver had bought them much more than a meal and a room for the night. It had bought them transportation.

“Okay, that works,” Harry said with confidence he didn’t feel. He’d never ridden a horse in his life. But he had ridden Thestrals and Hippogriffs so honestly, how difficult could it be.

Harry managed to haul himself up onto the horse, which he wasn’t even sure was a boy or a girl. He’d forgotten to look and while seated on top of it Harry couldn’t get a good look what the animal kept between its legs. The horse was the patient sort, which was a good thing, because it took Harry a moment to seat himself as he should, feeling around with his feet for the stirrups. Finally Harry picked up the reigns and pulled. The horse walked backwards.

“No,” Harry said quickly, and pulled harder on the reigns. The horse walked backwards faster. “No, go the other way. Forwards! Go on, giddy up!”

Bilbo was leaning forwards over his pony, completely overcome with helpless laughter while he watched Harry struggle with his horse. After a few long, hilarious moments, Bilbo caught his breath and demonstrated to Harry how to hold onto the reigns. Key seemed to be to not pull on them, but simply use them to steer the horse left or right. One got the horse to walk by gently prodding it with your heels.

Eventually, Harry mastered the art of steering the horse well enough that they were able to walk out of the shithole and back into nature where there at least was no constant smell of poop. Sitting on the horse while it did the walking for you wasn’t such a bad deal, Harry decided. Bilbo and his small pony took the lead, naturally and Harry’s horse seemed content enough to walk after them at a steady pace. Only now did Harry notice that Bilbo’s pony had several burlap sacks strapped to its back behind the rider. Looking over his shoulder, Harry noticed that his horse had the same. Was it horse food? Or provisions for them? How far was Bilbo planning to travel that they needed sacks of stuff. One of the sacks seemed suspiciously lumpy and Harry wondered if it held potatoes or turnips. Or both.

They rode for a while in silence before Bilbo picked up his word game again. Harry dutifully played along because he realized all too well that to live properly in this world he needed to learn the language. And Bilbo truly was a generous person to take him along and spend all his time teaching him his native tongue.

Around midday they halted for an hour so the horses could graze and they could have something to eat. Bilbo pulled down one of the burlap sacks and fished out some chunks of bread with some hard cheese and dried sausage on the side. It was simple but delicious food and Harry ate his fair share while they sat in the shadow of a large oak tree on the side of the road. Judging by the trees around them it was late spring or perhaps early summer. The temperature was mild but not hot by any means.

“Thank you,” Harry said after they’d rested for an hour, Bilbo puffing away on his pipe for most of that time. Harry placed his right hand over his heart and made a little bow towards Bilbo. “Thank you,” he said again in utter sincerity.

Bilbo smiled, nodded and patted Harry on the arm before going to fetch his pony.

Harry’s horse was a girl as it turned out. Harry took a good look before he mounted her again. He assumed she had a name but he wasn’t sure how to ask for it. “Bilbo,” Harry said, causing Bilbo to look at him over his shoulder as he got ready to mount his pony. Harry pointed at his own chest. “Harry.” Then he pointed at Bilbo. “Bilbo.” Finally he pointed at his horse and raised his shoulders in ignorance.

“Zilib,” Bilbo said with a smile. He pointed at his own pony. “Luthran.”

“Thanks.” Harry patted his horse’s neck. “Hello, Zilib, nice to meet you.”

Bilbo shook his head and hauled himself into the saddle. They continued their journey east at a steady pace. Bilbo didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. He seemed happy enough to enjoy the scenery and the lovely weather and Harry’s company as their horses walked until Harry’s arse hurt and his stomach rumbled.

The horses were given the chance to graze again on the stretch of long grass beside the road. Bilbo collected some firewood and with a bit of birch bark tinder he kept on his person he got a fire going using a piece of metal and a small knife. Harry watched him in admiration. He could light a fire with magic all day long but without magic he had no idea where to even get started. Harry vowed to himself to very closely observe Bilbo’s actions from now on because he was sure they would teach him a lot of useful things to know in this new world.

They ate more bread and cheese and sausage while they sat around the fire. Bilbo started his word game back up, now using a stick to draw simple images in a stretch of dirt beside the campfire. Harry got in on it and got his own stick so he could draw images, too. It was apparent that the world Bilbo lived in had no modern amenities because whenever Harry drew something technological Bilbo drew a blank. He had no idea what a telephone was or a car or even a bicycle, though loved learning their English names anyway.

They were both exhausted from the day’s travel and eventually curled up beside the fire. Harry was tempted to pull his tent out of his backpack but he couldn’t explain that kind of magic to Bilbo and he didn’t want to scare the man off. He’d still be lost without Bilbo.

A few hours later Harry woke up from the press of cold steel against his neck. Harry was wide awake at once, years of working as an Auror keeping his skills honed. There were three adult men in their camp. One had a sword held against Bilbo’s neck. The small fellow looked terrified, his eyes wide in the dark. The third man had collected their horses and held onto their reigns.

Harry pretended to be sleep drunk while he stumbled to his feet, as the man with the sword at his neck demanded of him. Just as Harry made it to his feet, he let himself fall backwards, away from the sword. At the same time he flicked his wand out of the holster on his arm and cast a stunner at the man before him. Within seconds he cast stunners at the other two men as well, the red magic briefly lighting up the darkness around them. The three men lay motionless on the ground.

Bilbo stood still for a few seconds before he started applauding while he rushed towards Harry. It became apparent that this was not the first time Bilbo had encountered magic as he seemed to compare Harry’s actions to other things he’d witnessed, though the details were lost on Harry.

Now that the magical cat was out of the magical bag, Harry decided to use some magic around Bilbo. He tied up all three men with a few spells, and while he did so he realized he’d seen them before in the inn they’d just stayed at. It seemed that Harry throwing around enough silver to buy not only accommodations but also a horse and a pony had been noticed by the wrong people and they’d been followed. And Harry had been so distracted by the horse riding and the amazing scenery and Bilbo’s word games that he hadn’t even realized. He was getting complacent in his old age.

From now on Harry vowed to at the very least use wards around their camps. And he was going to show Bilbo the tent whether he liked it or not. Harry was getting too old to sleep on the ground because not just his arse was sore from riding all day, his back wasn’t happy with laying on hard dirt for hours on end either.

The tied up men weren’t going anywhere and while Bilbo got their horses sorted, Harry pulled out the tent. He set it up with a few flicks of his wand and then he held open the flap for Bilbo, who peered inside curiously. Next the small man let out a very loud exclamation in sheer shock and rushed inside the tent.

Harry had charmed it himself in the years since Hermione had found him the ritual and he’d known he’d leave the wizarding world someday. It wasn’t quite the palace it could be. It was still a tent. But it was a very large tent on the inside. To the left were two separate compartments which housed a toilet, and a fully functioning bathroom with sink and bathtub. On the right were two compartments which held two bedrooms, one held Harry’s large bed, and the other one held two single beds for any guests he might have. In the middle of this all stood he living area, complete with two large sofas, a wood burning stove, and coffee table, and closer to the kitchen a dining table with six chairs in total. The kitchen was situated against the far end of the tent, with a large sink, wooden counter and a magical hob. There was a pantry loaded with undetectable expansion charms that held well over a year of preserved food. Against the walls all over the tent stood bookcases and dressers full of books and other items Harry had decided to bring along. In the corner near his bedroom stood one of the handful of brooms Harry had brought.

Bilbo all but danced through the tent, pointing out different features and raising his hands over his head in excitement. Harry pulled back the canvas door that led to the guestroom and gestured that Bilbo could use it.

Calming down some, Bilbo now put his right hand over his heart and said a few words while he gave Harry a bow in gratitude. Harry waved him off. He didn’t mind sharing what he had with people he liked, and he liked Bilbo a fair deal so far.

After they brought their sparse belongings inside the tent they decided to go to bed again, but now in real, comfortable beds with real, soft sheets. Harry slept like he was back at Hogwarts.

In the morning, Bilbo went to check up on the horses while Harry quickly prepared a pot of oatmeal and a two mugs of tea. They ate on the sofa, which was a more comfortable fit for Bilbo than the huge, oak dining table. After they finished eating, Bilbo puffed on his pipe and went right back to pointing at items while naming them.

When Harry pulled out paper and quill so Bilbo could write down those words as well the small man got really excited and stood watching Harry with a careful eye as he taught him a brand-new alphabet.

And that was their routine for the next few weeks as they travelled ever eastwards over the dirt road. They travelled for most of the day on horseback, though they had a day of rest every four or five days to give the horses a break. And their own arses as well, because much to Harry’s surprise sitting on a horse all day long was painful work.

Bilbo was an unforgiving instructor and thanks to his unrelenting attention Harry learned to speak Westron in record time. He still tripped over words regularly and his grammar was atrocious, according to Bilbo, but at least now they could talk and understand each other.

Harry learned that Bilbo came from a place called The Shire, where he lived in a hole in the ground in Hobbiton, with other hobbits. Because that is what Bilbo was. A hobbit. And this hobbit was travelling to Rivendell to spend the fall and winter with the elves there. Next spring he planned on travelling back to his home. And yes, Harry was more than welcome to come along because he was sure the elves would love to meet a man who appeared in front of Bilbo out of thin air with a clap of thunder.

Since the only elves Harry knew were house-elves, there was a bit of confusion until Bilbo described the elves of his world as being tall and having very pretty hair. That’s when Harry realized these were not like any elves he’d met before.

Harry also learned that just some years before Bilbo had been part of an adventure that involved a whole lot of dwarves, even more elves, some humans, huge spiders and a dragon. It said something about Harry’s own life that none of these things particularly alarmed him. When he told Bilbo that he’d once had to steal a golden egg from a dragon when he was at school, Bilbo had stared at him with shining eyes and demanded he tell the story in full detail.

It became apparent that the dragon Smaug had been quite a bit bigger than the Hungarian Horntail Harry had to outfly once upon a time. Bilbo was ever so disappointed when Harry said he’d never asked his dragon for its name.

It also became apparent that Bilbo had lost friends during that adventure. He spoke of that journey with humour and warmth in his voice, but Harry could see an underlying sadness, perhaps even a heartbreak, that Bilbo carefully tried to conceal. Harry could only sympathize. So far he hadn’t told Bilbo the true reason he’d ended up in Middle-Earth.

Bilbo insisted on showing Harry the statues of three large trolls that had turned to stone because Bilbo had outwitted them. Harry then told him about the troll at Hogwarts and how Harry had ended up jamming his wand up its nose, and Bilbo had rolled over on the sofa from laughing so hard.

“Only ten more days,” Bilbo said with a huge smile when they got ready to ride for another day. The skies were clear and the weather was looking up after a few days of drizzling rain. Bilbo had certainly appreciated Harry’s drying charms during those days. “You’re going to love Imladris. It is truly beautiful. Not as magnificent as the Shire, but then few things are,” Bilbo said with a wink. “But still quite lovely in its own right. I’m going for the library myself. I only got to glimpse it the last time I was there.”

“As long as not everything is covered in mud and shit I’m going to love it,” Harry said as he mounted Zilib. She’d gotten quite used to Harry’s inexperience and Harry had learned to be a better horse rider thanks to her patience. He truly liked his horse nowadays.

Bilbo thought that Harry’s discomfort during his stay in Bree, because that was what the shithole was called, was the height of comedy. “You are just as particular about your cleanliness as the elves,” Bilbo said as they rode side by side, his comments aimed at Harry’s habit to take a bath every evening. “And if we’re in luck Gandalf might also be there,” Bilbo added in a more serious tone. “He might know a way to get you back to your home.”

So far Bilbo had assumed that Harry had ended up in Middle-Earth by accident, and Harry hadn’t yet corrected him since everything had still been too raw for him. He was never going to see his friends and family again because they were all dead from old age. And Harry still barely looked eighteen.

“It was no accident,” Harry finally confessed, much to Bilbo’s obvious surprise. “Something happened to me a long time ago that stopped me aging. All the people I love are dead and gone and I was left behind. That is why I came here, because I heard there were people here who also do not age.”

“The elves,” Bilbo said with a knowing smile. “Then it’s a good thing, dear Harry, that you’ve joined me on this journey. I shall get you to the elves and you will find a home amongst them.”

“Are you certain I’ll be welcome?” Harry asked with a dubious frown. The last thing he wanted was to force his company on people who had no desire for it.

“Lord Elrond is most hospitable,” Bilbo assured him. “And I’m absolutely certain the elves will want to hear your stories of your extraordinary life.”

“I suppose we’ll see.” Harry inhaled a deep breath, feeling better now that he’d shared the truth with his new friend. Thankfully Bilbo was the kind of fellow who just took information like that in stride.

The weather stayed sunny and dry for the whole day but in the late afternoon dark clouds gathered on the horizon, promising at the very least some heavy rains, possibly a thunderstorm.

“Let’s stop now,” Harry suggested when they came across a stretch of grass for the horses in front of some woodland.

“Yes, that does look ominous,” Bilbo agreed as he stared at the distant clouds. “If you can catch us another rabbit I can make us some more stew.”

Harry had been summoning game and fish for weeks now, much to Bilbo’s delight. Partridges, ducks, once a goose, rabbits, hares, trout and pike. And Bilbo knew exactly how to clean and prepare each of them. As Harry put up their tent, he spotted some small holes near the treeline in the distance and aimed his wand at them. “Accio rabbit.” A shrieking rabbit came flying out of one of the holes and Harry caught it and quickly dispatched it with a bludgeoning hex. Just then a figure wearing a dark cloak stepped out of the woods some twenty yards away, a bow drawn and an arrow aimed at Harry.

“Drop the stick!” he yelled in Westron.

Harry contemplated if he was quicker with a spell than this man was with his arrow when a second voice sounded to his right. An identical figure in a dark cloak crouched there, also with an arrow aimed at Harry. “I wouldn’t,” the figure said, drawing his bow back a bit more.

Just then Bilbo came running out of the tent with his own small sword drawn. This brought up the figures at once and they relaxed their bows. “Bilbo Baggins,” one of the figures said, pushing his hood back and revealing a very handsome face with long, dark hair and pointy ears.

“Elladan, Elrohir, greetings,” Bilbo said with a warm smile. Then he glanced at Harry. “These are Lord Elrond’s sons.” He gestured between Harry and the elves. “My new friend Harry is accompanying me to Rivendell. He wishes to speak with your father.”

A third figure stepped out of the shadows of the woods and he was without question the most handsome man Harry had ever seen. He was tall, toned without being overly muscled. His hair was long and thick and spun from pure gold and his eyes were made of sapphires. His jaw was strong and his skin was flawless and in his eyes shone a light that drew Harry in completely.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Harry moved towards this elf, tripped over Bilbo and they both fell flat on their faces in the grass.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Bilbo started laughing hysterically at once while Harry scrambled to his feet, utterly mortified. He hadn’t done something so embarrassing when faced with an attractive person since his Hogwarts days, honestly.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Bilbo said in between snickers. “Lord Glorfindel has that effect on people.”

Harry’s cheeks, which were already warm, burned even hotter as he refused to meet Glorfindel’s overwhelming gaze. Elladan and Elrohir were both looking like they desperately wanted to fall to the ground laughing as well, but they managed to hold themselves back, though they did both sport very amused grins. The name Glorfindel did ring a vague bell with Harry, as though he’d heard it a few times before. Bilbo had been telling him many stories about famous elves doing great deeds in the past but Harry hadn’t been able to understand every word of them and he wondered if he’d missed something concerning Glorfindel in those stories.

At the very least it was a small comfort to know that Harry apparently wasn’t the first human to make a spectacle of himself when faced with the beauty of the elves. Another good thing was that the tumble he’d taken had snapped him out of whatever thrall had come over him.

Glorfindel said something in the language of the elves and rushed off back into the woods. Harry felt a pang of regret that apparently he’d chased off the elf with his behaviour but before he could sink into an instant depression due to being deprived of Glorfindel’s presence, Bilbo had calmed down enough so that he could speak again.

“Harry is a wizard,” Bilbo said, sitting up. “And a much better one than Gandalf, let me tell you.”

Harry reached down a hand and pulled Bilbo to his feet. “Stop telling my secrets,” Harry muttered with clear humour in his voice.

Bilbo brushed himself off, thankfully still in one piece, and then gestured towards the tent. “Come along, my Lords. You have to see this.”

Elladan and Elrohir shared a rather confused look between them but followed Bilbo to the tent. And when Bilbo pulled the flap back and told them to look they both let out surprised noises and eagerly joined Bilbo inside.

The first fat drops of rain started falling just as Bilbo yelled, “Harry, fetch us another rabbit, we’re having guests for dinner!”

Shaking his head, Harry picked up the rabbit he’d killed earlier and then summoned another one in the same manner. Just as he caught it, Glorfindel stepped out of the woods across from them, a few packs slung over his shoulder and three horses following him. Two large, dark brown ones, almost black, and one stunning white stallion.

Zilib, who’d been grazing nearby, raised her head and gave the stallion a long, approving look. So Harry’s horse took after Harry in her tastes.

“You’re welcome to join us in the tent. Bilbo’s cooking rabbit stew,” Harry called out to Glorfindel, who gave a single nod in response, his face carefully neutral.

Inside, Bilbo was giving the twins a tour of the place as though he owned it. The two elves seemed suitably impressed with all the features, even though Harry realized his sleeping compartment was wide open and he hadn’t made his bed in days and there were probably lots of dirty clothes strewn about since he hadn’t done laundry in a while either. He quickly crossed the tent and pulled his bedroom flap closed.

“Not to worry, wizard,” one of the twins said with a knowing little smile. Harry couldn’t tell them apart just yet. “We’ve seen much worse.”

Seeing identical twins always sent a pang of grief through Harry’s chest. George had never been the same after Fred died and when he was on his deathbed some years back he’d been so excited to see his brother again, finally, even when his children and grandchildren stood around crying. It was all George could talk about in his final moments.

Just as a clap of thunder sounded overhead, Glorfindel stepped through the opening, letting the flap fall closed behind him. He looked around for a few moments, his eyes slightly wider than usual while the rest of his face remained stoic at best. This guy had an awesome poker face, Harry decided, and he’d been playing poker and other card games for years with friends and colleagues, so he’d seen his fair share of them.

“Give us the rabbits, Harry, so I can get the stew on,” Bilbo commanded from the kitchen where he was already peeling potatoes.

“Please, have a seat. I’ll get you something to drink.” Harry waved towards the sofa and gestured for the elves to sit down, which they did, albeit slowly as though they’d never seen a sofa before. But it seemed to meet their approval because after a few seconds of sitting ramrod straight they leaned back and relaxed, stretching out their legs and giving approving nods to each other.

Harry handed the rabbits to Bilbo, who immediately set to work skinning them and cutting them up. After he put the kettle on, Harry took over peeling the potatoes and carrots. He also rehydrated some dried mushrooms, to Bilbo’s delight, and peeled a few big onions. All of this was done with a few flicks of his wand. The elves remained quiet but all had their heads craned so they could see what Harry was doing. They didn’t seem upset about the open displays of magic, just curious, much to Harry’s relief.

After all the prep work for the stew was done and Bilbo started putting it together, Harry made a big pot of tea.

“Make sure you serve it like you always make it for me,” Bilbo reminded Harry as he added just a splash of vinegar to the stew, followed by lots of black pepper. Bilbo was an excellent cook, Harry had learned over the past few weeks.

Harry steeped a bag of Earl Grey tea in the pot while he got mugs out, alongside with honey and shelf-stable milk. When he’d put together his provisions Harry had worried he might have gone overboard a little with the amount of tea he’d packed. There was easily a decade worth of English Breakfast tea and Earl Grey stashed away in a cardboard box with an expansion charm on it. This turned out to be a very good thing, because while the people of Middle-Earth did drink tea, as far as Bilbo knew they only drank herbal teas. They weren’t familiar with the black tea from the actual tea plant, at least not in the Shire or Rivendell.

Harry poured them all mugs of tea, adding a dollop of honey and a dash of milk to each. Then he handed each of the elves a steaming mug.

“It’s a delightful drink,” Bilbo called from the kitchen. “We have it for breakfast every morning, and after dinner every evening. But truth is, I could drink it all day but Harry here is rationing his prized tea. Not that I blame him, mind you.”

The elves shared curious looks and blew on their mugs before finally taking sips. They blinked and licked their lips, and Harry tried his very best not to stare while he cradled his own mug. Apparently the tea met with their approval because they took bigger sips while the twins offered Harry a grateful smile each.

Glorfindel, while he did enjoy the tea, didn’t seem as eager to simply accept Harry’s presence. “Where are you travelling from?”

“My land,” Harry said, still having some trouble with Westron that saying exactly what he wanted was difficult. “Excuse my language, I only just learned Westron. Bilbo is a great teacher.”

“And Harry’s a magnificent student,” Bilbo said as he joined them, holding his own steaming mug. “Easily the best I’ve ever had. The lad had a bit of an accident that stopped him aging.”

Harry blinked while he stared down at Bilbo in surprise. He had not meant to just divulge that information to everyone they met, but Bilbo prattled on without a care in the world.

“All his family and friends died of old age,” Bilbo said, carefully climbing on the sofa between Elladan and Elrohir. “So when he was left all alone he travelled to our world since he’d heard there were plenty of people here that don’t age.”

Well, that did sum up his entire history in a nutshell, he supposed. The twins gave him sympathetic looks, but Glorfindel had his eyes narrowed in obvious suspicion.

“Harry’s not just a wizard, but also a great warrior of his people,” Bilbo added with a beaming smile not out of place on the face of a proud father.

Harry held up a hand, suddenly feeling embarrassed of being called a great warrior in front of elves who actually were great warriors, having fought with swords in many battles. Harry had tried to explain what an Auror was to Bilbo with his limited vocabulary and Bilbo had assumed that meant Harry was simply a warrior.

“I fight,” Harry said, frantically looking for the right words. “But not with swords. I fight with magic.”

“Like Gandalf,” Bilbo added with an agreeable nod.

Since the only available spot was next to Glorfindel on the sofa Harry carefully sank down on it, a respectful distance away. He’d felt a little strange standing while everyone else was sitting down. And since Bilbo’s stew needed at least an hour and a half of cooking there wasn’t anything else to do but wait, especially since it was now pouring rain outside accompanied by regular claps of thunder.

Glorfindel’s sapphire gaze was undressing Harry in ways that were decidedly not sexy. “We will bring you before Lord Elrond,” Glorfindel finally said and that seemed to be the end of his scrutiny, at least for now. Glorfindel went back to sipping his tea, ignoring Harry again.

“Were you on a hunting trip?” Bilbo asked one of the twins.

“We’d heard of some orcs passing through his area. We were tracking them down.”

Bilbo gave the elves a very surprised look. “Orcs? Here?”

Glorfindel nodded. “We are unsure where they came from as of yet. We will escort you to Rivendell, since it is not safe to travel there alone right now.”

“Oh, I’m sure Sting would keep us plenty safe,” Bilbo said with a laugh while he gestured to the dresser where his sword was leaning against. “But we welcome your assistance anyway.”

The way Harry understood it from Bilbo, orcs were vicious beasts that were the enemy of hobbits and elves. And of everyone else, really. Harry was glad the elves would be escorting them. He’d only just got there and he had no desire to end up in a fight for his life so soon already.

Bilbo did most of the talking over the next hour, catching the elves up on some gossip about some dwarves. At least that was as much as Harry got out of the story.

At some point the subject came back to Bilbo’s current journey. “We only stayed at the Prancing Pony one night,” Bilbo said and then started giggling. “You should have seen Harry’s face when he first saw Bree in all its muddy glory.”

“It is a shithole,” Glorfindel said out of the blue. He’d barely spoken so far, content to listen to Bilbo’s stories.

“That’s what I said!” Harry looked at Glorfindel in astonishment. Not only was this elf the most handsome being Harry had ever met, he also understood the importance of basic hygiene. “There was shit everywhere. I didn’t even dare look for the latrine while I was there.”

Glorfindel cracked a brief grin, which did amazing things to his face. “Smart choice. I refuse to stay in Bree altogether. The surrounding forests are so much more comfortable. And clean.”

Harry fell back against the couch. “If I had known what it was like I would have pitched my tent in the woods, no question.”

Glorfindel looked around the tent again and then glanced at Harry. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with no small amount of pride. It had basically taken a mastery in Charms to manage to create something as complicated as the expanded tent, and Harry had worked hard for years to learn all the magic needed for it. He’d also made sure he knew how to build broomsticks from scratch, just in case he lost the ones he’d brought with him. “It took me a while to learn all the magic needed, but I managed it in the end. It’s great for travelling.”

“Does it fold up like a normal tent?” Glorfindel asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yep, it fits right in my backpack.” Harry gestured with his foot to his backpack that stood near the entrance.

“It’s certainly a comfortable way of travelling,” Glorfindel said with an approving look.

“It certainly is.” Bilbo pushed himself off the couch. “It beats sleeping on bare earth. I’m going to check on my stew.”

“What else can you do?” Elladan asked. Harry had noticed that his vambraces were of a lighter leather than his brother’s. Also, he wore different jewel around his neck.

“Can you heal?” Elrohir added as he exchanged a glance with his brother.

“Some,” Harry said, since he’d learned basic first aid during Auror training and later in his life he’d taught himself a few more healing spells. They always came in handy. “Mostly cuts and bruises and broken bones.”

“Harry made me this,” Bilbo called from the kitchen, pointing at the wooden step stool Harry had transfigured for him so he could reach the stove. “He took a dead tree, cut out a log and then swished his stick and turned it into this little stool. Magnificent magic. I’ve certainly never seen Gandalf accomplish such a feat.”

“You can turn one thing into another like that?” Glorfindel asked with a dubious look, as though he wasn’t sure if Bilbo was simply telling tall tales.

Harry nodded. “In my world we start learning to do that when we are eleven. We start small.” Harry fished around in his pocket and found a lone knut. He placed the copper coin on the coffee table, aimed his wand at it and turned it into a button made of white bone.

“That is so useful,” Elladan said, leaning over and picking up the button so he could examine it. Elrohir leaned over for a closer look as well.

“Harry’s been the perfect travelling companion,” Bilbo said as he stirred through the large pot of stew. “Thanks to his talents and his tent this journey has been nothing but comfortable. He even saved us from three ruffians set on robbing us the first night after Bree.”

Harry shrugged when Glorfindel looked at him with renewed interest. “It was nothing, really. Those men had followed us from Bree. They’d seen me pay with silver for the horses. I should have been more careful. I had only just arrived in this land.”

“Dinner is ready,” Bilbo called before any of the elves could react.

Weeks ago Harry had transfigured one of the dining chairs into something resembling a barstool with a backrest so Bilbo could comfortably sit at the dining table. Harry lifted the heavy pan to the table while Bilbo got plates and spoons. The elves sat down around the table, the twins on one side, Harry and Glorfindel on the other side, and Bilbo in his own special chair at the head of the table. Harry poured them all glasses of water while everyone filled their plates with Bilbo’s rabbit stew. It was a delicious meal, rich and filling, and the elves went back for seconds when Bilbo urged them to. The hobbit was practically glowing from the many compliments he received for his culinary skills.

After dinner Harry demonstrated, much to Bilbo’s delight, how to do the dishes with magic quickly and efficiently.

“Gandalf never did our dishes,” Bilbo said as though Gandalf had personally betrayed him because of this.

They had some more tea and Harry was able to ask the elves a few simple questions about Rivendell. It seemed to be a commune of sorts, where everyone did some type of work and in exchange they got room and board. There were no paying jobs to be had, but everything was provided for by the community. That suited Harry just fine. He had plenty of gold, he just needed a place to live and where he could make himself useful. He told the elves as much and they seemed at least open to the possibility of Harry living with them. Of course, ultimately it was up to Lord Elrond to decide if Harry could stay long-term.

“You’re welcome to sleep in the tent,” Harry offered once he got tired enough to turn in for the night. It was still pouring buckets outside. “There is an extra bed in Bilbo’s room, and the sofa also becomes a bed.”

That raised a few eyebrows, so Harry quickly demonstrated how to open up the sofa and pull it out into a bed.

“I had no idea,” Bilbo said, staring at the new bed in awe. “You never told me this place held even more tricks.”

“I wasn’t about to give everything away at once,” Harry said with a wink, much to Bilbo’s delight.

“We will rest here,” Elladan said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa bed. “Glorfindel can share with Bilbo.”

That seemed acceptable enough to Glorfindel, who followed Bilbo to check out his new accommodations. In the meantime Harry used the toilet and the bathroom, and after showing the twins how to turn off the magical lamps around the tent he turned in for the night. Harry fell asleep almost at once, exhausted as he was from the day’s adventures. He dreamed about Hogwarts, as he often did, but this time a handsome elf joined him at the Gryffindor table. Glorfindel smiled at him, sapphire eyes shining, as he sat down beside Harry.

Loud growls and the clanging of metal woke Harry up sometime during the night. He yanked his wand out from under his pillow and ran outside in his pyjamas and on bare feet. Bilbo was standing in the entrance to the tent, clutching his small sword which glowed blue. Horses neighed and hooves slammed against something. The night was pitch black and Harry couldn’t see a thing.

“Lumos!” Harry aimed his wand and saw Glorfindel and the twins finishing a fight against what had to be orcs. Glorfindel stood with his torso bare, only wearing his light trousers, his long sword dripping with black blood.

“Some of the horses are hurt,” Elladan called, and at once Harry stepped forwards, aiming his light at where the horses should be.

“One is missing,” Elrohir said and hurried into the darkness. “We’ll track it. Brother, come!” The twins disappeared with their swords drawn.

“Oh no, Luthran,” Bilbo said with a worried look. The white pony had long claw marks running down her neck that were gushing blood.

“Hold her, I can heal that,” Harry said, holding his holly wand with the light aimed at Luthran’s wounds and summoning the elder wand. As always, the elder wand eagerly appeared in his hand, ready for action. Harry took his time running the wand over the cuts while muttering the appropriate healing charm. The bleeding stopped at once and the wounds slowly healed. “It will scar a little, but she’ll be fine,” Harry told a visibly relieved Bilbo, who patted Luthran on her soft nose.

“Asfaloth is also injured,” Glorfindel said once Harry was done. Harry turned to look at the white stallion and noticed a serious wound on his right front leg, as though something had bitten down on it and stripped away a good chunk of skin. “Can you heal this, wizard?”

“Yeah, one moment.” Harry summoned his main potions bag from the tent and got out a large jar of healing salve. That would help regenerate the missing skin. “I need to put this on the wound,” Harry explained as he approached the clearly nervous horse. Asfaloth was flaring his nostrils and pounding his large hooves into the dirt when Harry came closer. “Or you can do it,” Harry said quickly when it became clear Asfaloth wasn’t about to let Harry come closer. “Just slather it on as thick as you can. The wound will be healed in an hour.”

Glorfindel accepted the jar and went to work. Asfaloth remained completely calm for him as Glorfindel spoke soft words to him under his breath while he used half the jar to treat the horse’s injured leg.

In the meantime Harry took a closer look at the four dead orcs that lay on the muddy grass. The rain had stopped but everything was still sopping wet. The orcs looked like nothing Harry had ever seen before. If he would have to call them something, he’d describe them as demons of sorts. Slightly humanoid but with features that were harsh and terrifying and all wrong. Harry leaned a little closer and then quickly pulled back.

“They stink worse than Bree,” Harry said with a wrinkle of his nose as he shone his lit up wand over the bodies.

Glorfindel let out a surprised burst of laughter, which was perhaps the most amazing sound Harry had ever heard. Still laughing, Glorfindel closed the jar and handed it back to Harry. “You are not wrong, wizard. Orcs smell truly awful.”

Harry shared a quick smile with Glorfindel, much to his pleasure, but then Elladan and Elrohir came back carrying a broken bridle and it was only then that Harry realized that Zilib was missing.

“What happened,” Harry asked as he rushed towards the twins. “Where’s my horse?”

“No, my friend,” Elladan said as he held Harry back with a hand on his upper arm. “There is no need for you to see your horse like that.”

“Two wargs got to her before we could. I am sorry,” Elrohir added with a solemn nod.

Harry’s eyes narrowed as something cold and unforgiving settled in his stomach. “And where are these wargs now?”

“We have taken care of them,” Elladan quickly assured him. “They will never harm another horse again.”

Harry swallowed and nodded, and then he swallowed again. Poor Zilib. Killed by whatever the fuck a warg even was. Harry had no clue, but if they associated with orcs they were obviously bad news. Bilbo stepped up to Harry and patted him on the elbow.

“Zilib was a fine horse and she will be missed,” Bilbo said with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed in a small voice. He’d only known her for just over a month but he’d really become attached to her in such a short time, and it genuinely hurt that he’d lost her so unexpectedly and so violently.

Then something dawned on Harry and he stared down at Bilbo. “How am I getting to Rivendell now?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

“My brother and I will ride together,” Elrohir offered at once. “You can use one of our horses.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. For a moment he’d been worried he’d have to pull out his broomstick and fly the rest of the way. Harry had no problems with that, but he was concerned how the others would react to that. The ability to fly on a piece of wood was much more intimidating than magically doing dishes or turning a log of wood into a step stool. At least Harry thought so and he did not want to alienate any of his new elf friends before he had the chance to meet with Elrond and secure residency at Rivendell.

“I’ll make us a big pot of oatmeal for breakfast,” Bilbo said while giving his pony a final few pats on her now completely healed neck. The sun was starting to crest over the horizon so it was time to start the day anyway.

The three elves gathered all the orc corpses into a big pile a small distance away and Harry set it on fire with a flick of his wand. “Will we see more of them?” Harry asked as the four of them stood watching the flames billow higher and higher.

“Perhaps,” Glorfindel said, which did nothing to settle Harry’s nerves. He told himself that these monsters were just as easily stopped and killed as anything else he’d ever fought. A Sectumsempra to the neck would most likely work just fine. Harry vowed to be more alert from that moment on, though. And he also vowed to put up more and better wards. The arrival of the elves the previous night had distracted him to the point that he’d completely forgotten to ward their surroundings at all. It had cost him his poor horse, and Harry blamed himself for that. He was not making that mistake again.

“Come eat some breakfast!” Bilbo called from where he stood in the entrance. They joined him inside the tent where big bowls of oatmeal stood waiting. Bilbo had added plenty of brown sugar and dried fruit to the porridge, and he’d also made a steaming pot of tea. It was a delicious, filling meal and it helped settle Harry’s unease a bit. When he’d performed the ritual it hadn’t actually occurred to him that he might end up in a world without modern amenities that ended up being much more violent than the world he’d left behind.

Oh well. Nothing much he could do about it now. Harry could of course perform the ritual again and send himself to yet another world but then he might end up in an even worse world. Besides, Harry wanted to see Rivendell first, see if it truly was a peaceful place where he might live comfortably. Harry wasn’t the type of person to go running at the first sign of trouble anyway.

Harry took care of the dishes and packed up the tent when the others got the horses ready. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and stepped up to Elladan who stood waiting for him at his horse’s side.

“Her name is Lumien,” Elladan said, handing the reigns to Harry. “She is still young so she can be a bit feisty, but when you use a firm but gentle hand you’ll be all right.”

Staring into the horse’s deep brown eyes, Harry felt a certain amount of uncertainty settling in his stomach. The only reason he’d been able to ride Zilib as well as he had was because she was an older horse, very experienced and patient with a novice rider like Harry.

Lumien stared right back at Harry and snorted a few times, nostrils flaring while pawing at the ground with a hoof.

“I am not a good rider. I’m very new still,” Harry whispered to Elladan, hoping no one else heard it. But given the snort Glorfindel let out it was clear that everyone did anyway.

Elladan was obviously trying not to grin. “Just mount her and we’ll take it from there.”

With a sigh, Harry stepped up to Lumien’s side and tried to place one foot in the stirrup while he grabbed hold of the saddle. But Lumien was having none of that and darted out of the way, neighing as though Harry had personally insulted her by daring to try to mount her.

Elrohir, who was already seated on his own horse, threw his head back and laughed.

“You weren’t lying,” Elladan said with a shake of his head. “You are very new at this.”

Glorfindel mounted Asfaloth and made it look like the easiest thing in the world. “He can ride with me. Come here, wizard.”

“Er…” Ride on a horse with the super hot elf? Sure, Harry could do that. Hopefully even without making an enormous arse of himself.

Glorfindel effortlessly steered Asfaloth towards Harry who now noticed the horse didn’t even have a bridle or reigns. Wasn’t that incredibly dangerous, to ride a horse as powerful as Asfaloth without a means to control him? Harry truly had no clue about horse riding but he figured that Glorfindel didn’t look like the type who regularly fell off his horse so he must know what he was doing. Glorfindel reached out his arm and Harry grabbed hold of the elf’s forearm. Glorfindel gave an almighty pull, and Harry used a tiny bit of magic to lift himself up, and that is how Harry managed to scramble onto the back of Glorfindel’s horse.

What should have been a romantic ride with the super hot elf turned into a few hours of sheer hell. Glorfindel was a great rider and Asfaloth had a very smooth gait, but the elves insisted on galloping the whole time to get them away from the area they’d been attacked in. The problem was that Harry, up until that point, had only ever sat on a horse when it walked. He and Bilbo hadn’t been in a rush, after all.

Harry bounced around violently on the back of the horse, with the edge of Glorfindel’s saddle pressing into his dick painfully with every bump. Harry kept his hands very respectfully on the elf’s hips to help keep himself on the horse, but this brought him close enough to Glorfindel that his face was buried in a lush fall of thick, golden hair for the entire time. And that wasn’t nearly as pleasant as one might imagine. The hair got everywhere, including Harry’s eyes, nose and mouth. And whenever he tried to wipe it away he had to let go of Glorfindel and risk losing his balance altogether.

Meanwhile, Bilbo kept looking at Harry with a smug little smile, as though he’d just won the annual Hobbiton Greatest Garden competition. And Elladan and Elrohir looked at them both as though all their local holidays had come early.

By the time they stopped for the midday meal Harry had made up his mind. Fuck the elves and their possible judgement of his magic.

Harry all but fell off Asfaloth and immediately pressed a hand against his crotch, uncaring about his companions. They were all male. They understood the agony that was a bruised dick. Harry conjured a chunk of ice, then conjured a towel to wrap around it and then shoved the whole thing down his jeans to cool his burning privates.

“Perhaps we should walk for a while after our meal,” Elladan said, sounding full of sympathy though he was still grinning in clear amusement.

Glorfindel gave Harry an entirely unimpressed look. “I hadn’t realized the second born had such delicate constitutions that they cannot even sit on a horse for a few hours.”

Harry blinked and stared at Glorfindel in confusion. Had he just been insulted? Harry was sure he’d just been insulted. “Your saddle is very hard,” Harry was able to say, even though there were a thousand other things he wanted to say instead, but he didn’t want to ruin his chances at a possible future home by insulting one of its residents. Harry had learned a little impulse control over the years. Not much, but enough for now.

Bilbo in the meantime placed a burlap sack on the grass and spread out an assortment of cheeses, dried sausage, dried fruit and nuts. “Come eat something, Harry. You’ll feel better.”

Harry very carefully lowered himself to the ground and released a pained groan as he did so. Fuck his life. Fuck this world. And fuck Glorfindel and his stupid horse. It didn’t matter how hot an elf was if all you ended up with was a bruised dick after spending a few hours intimately close with him. Harry grabbed a handful of the food and just put a piece of sausage in his mouth when Glorfindel sat down beside him and offered him a small flask.

“Take a sip,” Glorfindel said, urging him to take the flask. “It is miruvor. It will help you.”

Harry swallowed his mouthful and accepted the flask. Was this some elven healing potion? Curious, Harry took a sniff but didn’t really smell much of anything. Trusting that Glorfindel probably didn’t want to poison him, Harry drank a tiny amount. At once a warmth spread throughout his body, not unlike the feeling of taking a pepper-up potion but without the steam coming out of your ears. The pain in his dick and his arse and all of his muscles slowly ebbed away until they became some insignificant background sensation.

“Thanks,” Harry said, handing the flask back to Glorfindel with a genuine smile. “I’m much better.”

“Good, because we are not slowing our pace,” Glorfindel said matter-of-factly as he closed the flask and tucked it away in his tunic beneath his mail.

Harry ate a piece of cheese and didn’t say anything. There was no way he was getting back on a horse that day, or possibly ever again. Good thing he had brought a handful of brooms that were all faster than any horse alive.

Bilbo easily kept the conversation going for the next hour with questions and stories. Elladan and Elrohir especially loved hearing Bilbo’s opinions on Thranduil, who was apparently some hot shot elf from another part of the world or something. That was about as much as Harry was able to understand.

Once over an hour had passed, Bilbo packed up the remaining food and everyone got up to ready themselves for another few hours of quick travel. Harry stuck a hand in his backpack and summoned the broom he kept in there. It was a Lightning Bolt, a broom created by the company that made the Firebolt as a special edition for the fifth anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat. It was an old broom by now, but Harry had kept it in pristine condition and it was still his favourite broom to fly.

“Harry,” Bilbo said as he stared at Harry with wide eyes. “I know you like to keep clean but this is not the time to sweep anything.”

The elves in the meantime were looking even more puzzled than Bilbo was on why on earth the silly human had a sudden need for a broomstick of all things.

Harry grinned at them all. “This is not for cleaning. This is for flying.” And with that, Harry jumped on his broom and launched himself into the air. Bilbo almost fell backwards as he threw his head up to follow Harry’s path. Harry shot straight up into the air, did a few loops and barrel rolls and then slowly descended again until he hovered right above his companions.

The twins seemed suitably impressed while Bilbo appeared mute with shock.

Glorfindel, however, simply shook his head while he got on his horse. “Are you telling me, wizard, that sitting on a flying stick is more comfortable than riding my horse?”

Harry frowned while he tried to figure out how on earth to explain what an invisible cushioning charm was in Westron. “It has a pillow you cannot see.” Harry bounced up and down on his broom a few times. “It’s very comfortable.”

Shrugging, Glorfindel placed a hand on Asfaloth’s mane and urged his horse forward. “If your delicate behind prefers an invisible pillow, that is fine by me.”

Harry flew right over the top of Glorfindel’s head, just because he could.

The rest got moving as well and Harry, after a few more stunts high up in the air just for fun, flew alongside them at a steady pace as they continued their way to Rivendell. Occasionally he would scout ahead a little by flying higher so he had a better overview of their surroundings. At one point he saw a group of wild boar rooting around near a cops of trees in the distance and Harry slowly and carefully approached them from above without being spotted.

He selected a young boar, not quite yet an adult, but plenty big to feed them for a few days. He aimed his wand and sent a stunner at the animal, hitting it right in the back. The rest of the boars fled at once and Harry touched down beside the boar and dispatched it with a slicing charm to the throat. It bled out in less than a minute. Harry levitated the boar behind himself while he flew back to his companions.

“I caught us dinner!” Harry yelled as he flew up to them, boar floating after him.

Bilbo’s eyes widened and his whole face lit up. “You’ve caught us a feast! I suggest we stop now so we can prepare a proper roast.”

Glorfindel commanded Asfaloth to a halt and the rest stopped as well. Bilbo’s pony definitely looked like it needed a good rest after galloping so much for the whole day. “Very well, we’ll make camp for the night.”

Harry landed on a nearby stretch of grass surrounded by trees. They were definitely in a wooded area now with fewer and fewer open spaces. “Someone will have to butcher this thing,” Harry called out as he carefully lay the boar down in the grass.

Elladan and Elrohir quickly jumped off their horses and got a knife out each. They proceeded to skin the animal with practiced ease.

Bilbo stepped up to Harry and started taking the saddle off his pony. “In the Shire we always burn the hairs off the pig but keep the skin on. Pork rind is a delicacy. But I suppose in the field that is too much of a hassle.”

“Indeed.” Glorfindel appeared behind them, Asfaloth’s saddle in his arms. He stared at Harry with a furrowed brow. “What sort of world do you come from, wizard, that you can fly on a stick but cannot butcher a boar that you caught?”

Harry wasn’t sure how to explain that in Westron. “My meat was always cut up when I bought it,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “I never had to hunt.”

Bilbo patted his elbow. “I quite understand, lad. I also prefer to buy my meat from the butcher instead of raising my own pigs or catching my own game. I daresay there are plenty of hobbits who wouldn’t know how to butcher a whole boar either.”

Glorfindel gave Harry a long, intense stare before he shook his head and went to inspect the twins’ work breaking apart the carcass.

Harry got the tent set up and helped Bilbo get everything prepared in the kitchen. Elladan presented them with a huge roast that Bilbo slathered in olive oil and then rubbed down with salt and pepper. Harry peeled and sliced up a pile of potatoes and onions, which went into the hot oven together with the roast. Finally he opened up a large can of green beans.

“We shall eat well tonight,” Bilbo said, rubbing his stomach in anticipation before he set the table. Harry conjured a pile of butcher’s paper and went to see how the twins were faring. They had almost the whole carcass broken down already and Harry wrapped up all the other roasts and cuts they had created.

“I have a freezing cabinet,” Harry explained when Elrohir asked what he planned to do with all the wrapped meat. “It will stay fresh for months that way.” Harry also made sure to wrap up all the bones. He could turn those into bone broth once he had some time.

“Burn whatever you don’t keep,” Glorfindel said from where he stood watching them with crossed arms. “We do not want any creature to smell any skin or offal lying around tonight.”

That was probably a really good idea, Harry decided. They piled up all the parts Harry didn’t know what to do with, like the head and guts and skin and Harry set the whole thing on fire with a flick of his wand.

“How much longer for the roast?” Harry asked as he opened up the freezing cabinet, that sat below the cooling cabinet on one of the walls in the kitchen.

“At least 45 minutes, I reckon,” Bilbo said as he peered into the oven through the glass door. “It’s a massive roast.”

“So I’ve got time for a bath?” Harry perked up at that possibility. The miruvor must have worn off by now because his muscles were aching again, including his arse and his dick. A warm bath with some medicinal bath oil would do wonders.

“Yes, yes, go have your bath.” Bilbo waved him off with a chuckle the moment Harry had all the meat secured in the freezing cabinet.

Harry got his backpack and then locked himself up in the bathroom. The charms on the bathtub worked by conjuring water from the taps and vanishing it the moment it went down the drain. Complicated magic, but useful as fuck because it meant you could have a fully functioning sink and bathtub without any waterlines or indoor plumbing. Harry turned on the taps and undressed slowly, his back too sore to be quick about anything at that point. He pulled out his smallest potions bag from his backpack and rummaged around for the right bath oil. He poured a generous amount in the steaming water and then he lowered himself in the tub with a satisfied sigh.

Oh yeah, this was what he needed after spending a morning bouncing around on a galloping horse. Harry turned off the taps, leaned his head back and briefly closed his eyes. The next thing he knew was Bilbo yelling from the other side of the accordion door that dinner was almost ready. Blinking his eyes open, Harry realized he’d dozed off. He quickly dunked his head in the now lukewarm water and poured a dollop of shampoo on his hair. He washed it in record time before running a washcloth over his face.

Clean enough, Harry decided. He got out and dried off with a quick charm which made his hair stick up even more than it usually did. He also cast a few quick cleaning charms on his clothes so they were ready to wear for another day. By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, Bilbo had dinner on the table and was cutting the roast.

“Come! Eat!” Bilbo expertly sliced up the hunk of meat. “It came out perfectly, if I do say so myself.”

Bilbo wasn’t wrong. The meat was medium rare and rich without being too gamey. Harry hadn’t eaten this well in a long time, certainly not since ending up in Middle-Earth.

“Truly a fine meal,” Glorfindel said with a warm smile, which made Bilbo blush. Ha! It seemed Harry was not the only one susceptible to elven charms. That was good to know.

They all went back for seconds and polished off the whole roast between the five of them. Harry was truly astonished how much Bilbo could pack away in his three foot body. After dinner they enjoyed a pot of tea between them and everyone looked more than ready for some rest.

“Might we use your bath?” Elrohir asked when Harry got up to go cast some wards.

“Of course.” Harry led Elrohir and Elladan to the bathroom and explained how the taps worked. He also showed them were to find clean towels and soap in the cabinet beside the sink. He left them to it and strolled outside where he proceeded to put up some serious wards, including around the piece of grass the horses were grazing on.

“What are you doing?” Glorfindel asked, scaring the crap out of Harry. He hadn’t heard the elf follow him outside.

“Putting up magic to warn us,” Harry said in broken Westron, having no clue how else to describe wards. “They are like invisible walls and people cannot see us behind them.”

“Hm.” Glorfindel walked around the clearing and tilted his head this way or that as he walked right alongside the wards Harry had cast, as though he could see them perfectly. But that wasn’t possible, was it? Harry had never heard of anyone being able to see magic like that. “I suppose we shall see if they work tonight,” Glorfindel finally said as he circled back to Harry.

“They’ll work,” Harry said, feeling just a little offended. Then again, he couldn’t blame Glorfindel for not simply trusting Harry or his magic. Harry was all too aware that he was a very powerful stranger that suddenly showed up out of the blue wanting to move in with them, basically. Yeah, he understood that the elves would be careful with him, and wary of him. He didn’t blame them for that one bit.

But Harry also knew he’d come to Middle-Earth with good intentions and he truly hoped they would at least give him the chance to prove himself worthy.

Harry went to bed after he got all the wards set up while Glorfindel made use of the bathroom after the twins were done with it. Perhaps the way towards the elves’ hearts was to introduce magical plumbing to Rivendell, if they didn’t already have something like that. Elladan had certainly seemed very appreciative that warm water just magically poured out of the tap.

Thankfully, nothing disturbed them that night and they were all able to find the rest they needed. Which didn’t seem to be nearly as much for the elves as it was for Harry and Bilbo, because by the time Harry got up quite early the next morning the elves were already lounging on the sofa, wide awake. Bilbo came stumbling out of his bedroom moments later, looking sleepy and ruffled but still insisting that he would prepare breakfast.

Bilbo made them large, thin pancakes, almost like crepes, that he filled with honey or strawberry jam. They were fucking delicious and Harry easily ate four in a row even if he was still mostly full from last night’s roast.

They travelled in much the same fashion for another two full days, riding their horses hard while Harry flew overhead, and feasting on wild boar in the evenings. Harry’s bathroom got a really good workout because the elves truly did enjoy bathing as much as Harry did, much to his delight. That meant Rivendell was most probably a clean place and that was all Harry needed, really.

“If we keep up a steady pace we’ll make it to Rivendell by nightfall,” Glorfindel said on the third day when they packed up again for travelling. They were now travelling through dense woodland, across small paths that made it so they couldn’t go very fast on their horses. Harry was looking forward to finally getting to their destination since he’d been on the road now for well over a month and a half. Bilbo was also brimming with enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing Rivendell again and he couldn’t stop talking about all the books he was going to read in the vast library. Harry was curious about that as well, until Glorfindel pointed out that most of those books were written in Sindarin, the language of the elves.

So now Harry had to learn a whole new language. Again. He’d only just conquered Westron enough that he could hold a basic conversation.

“Erestor will probably be happy to teach you,” Elladan said when he saw Harry’s look of dawning horror. “If you are as eager a student as Bilbo claims you are.”

“He is, he is!” Bilbo called as he sat on his pony, trotting along last in line. “He’ll learn Sindarin in no time, I’m sure of it.”

“I’ll certainly try my best,” Harry said with conviction. He knew now how important it was that he could communicate with the people around him, after he and Bilbo had barely been able to understand each other at first. And apparently most elves only spoke Sindarin, not Westron. Only the elves that regularly travelled knew the common tongue. And Harry had no intention of not being able to talk amongst most of the people in his potential new home.

Darkness fell early in between the tall trees and Harry had to light up his wand so he could follow along with the horses as they walked through the dark, Glorfindel and Asfaloth leading the way. Eventually the woodland gave way to some rocky cliffs that they walked alongside of, with a river running wild in the valley below. A small path zigzagged down the cliffside towards the valley and as Harry flew a little bit more into the open he could see the outlines of buildings with lights burning behind their windows in the distance. Everywhere he heard waterfalls but he couldn’t make out many in the darkness.

It took the elves and hobbit almost an hour to make their way down to the valley floor alongside the path and Harry waited not so patiently for them to catch up as he hovered on his broom near the bridge over the foaming river.

“Home at last,” Elrohir cried out and he urged his horse forwards, though the animal hardly needed urging. The horse was probably also looking forwards to a dry, comfortable stall and a big portion of oats.

A few elves waited for them at the foot of some stairs, ready to take the horses from them. If they were surprised to see Harry flying on a broomstick, they didn’t show it. Harry dismounted his broom and tucked it away in his backpack.

Another elf walked towards them and said a few words in Sindarin. The only word Harry understood was Elrond, and he guessed that they were to see the Lord of Rivendell right away. They climbed the steps up to a building that had unique architecture from what Harry could see of it in the darkness. He couldn’t wait to explore this place by daylight.

“I’ll show you around in the morning,” Bilbo whispered to him as they entered through two open doors into a hallway made of light stone, possibly marble. “It is truly a magical place.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered back. They walked through the empty halls towards another set of stairs that led to a private sitting room where Elrond sat with a few other elves.

It was easy to tell which of the elves was Elrond. For one, his sons looked a great deal like him. And Elrond had a very powerful yet very wise air about him, as though he’d seen everything there was to see and nothing could possibly ever surprise him again.

Bilbo got a warm greeting and was immediately invited to sit down, one of the elves even getting up out of his chair to make room for him.

Then Glorfindel gestured at Harry and started talking in very fast Sindarin, his voice doing all sorts of interesting things. At some points he seemed amused by what he was telling but other times his voice became utterly wary, his expression troubled. Harry in the meantime stood quietly, hands clasped before him as he waited for his turn to speak.

“Harry Potter,” Elrond finally said in Westron while he gazed at Harry with dark blue eyes that seemed to be designed to draw you in somehow. “Be welcome in my home. I would speak with you at length in these coming days, but for now you are welcome to stay.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered sincerely with a solemn nod of his head. Well then. It seemed Harry was well on his way of finding a new home after all. Then he met Glorfindel’s narrowed eyes and the elf, for some reason, didn’t look happy at all.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Bilbo and Harry were soon shown to a pair of guest rooms in a different wing of the main building by a chatty elf named Raithon who spoke perfect Westron and spent their trek through the building pointing out where everything was and how everything worked. They would be served a late dinner in their rooms now but in the morning they were expected to come to the great hall at the sound of the bells for breakfast.

Harry couldn’t help but ask about their bathing facilities and Raithon eagerly explained that cold water was available in all buildings through a system of copper pipes that brought water from the waterfalls to several main points in various buildings. For hot water there were the kitchens, where they always had large copper kettles on the fire for boiling water. And once a week the public bathhouse fired up their huge copper kettles so hot water was available there as well for bathing. If you wanted to bathe on any other day you had to use cold water.

The toilets in Rivendell used no water at all and were basically composting toilets that were situated a bit away from any of the main buildings. Chamber pots were provided in each room for emergencies.

Harry shared a quick, knowing glance with Bilbo at hearing all of these details. So this was something Harry could help the elves with quite easily.

Their rooms were situated across from one another and moments after Harry stepped inside his suite an elf brought him a plate of warm food with a metal lid covering it. Harry thanked the elf with a short bow and then examined the food. There was an assortment of roasted vegetables, some raw leafy greens, and something that looked like lambchops. All in all a fine meal and Harry sat down at the small table in the corner of the room to eat.

The room was quite big, with a large, four poster bed against one wall, a set of floor to ceiling lattice windows with intricate floral and leafy patterns which were works of art in their own right, and on the other wall was a beautifully decorated wardrobe and a commode which held a large bowl for washing and a jug of cold water. Harry suspected that inside he’d find soap and towels and the likes. Not the most luxurious of facilities but they certainly sufficed to keep one clean if one washed themselves top to bottom every day, even if the water was cold.

That certainly explained why Glorfindel and the twins had all eagerly used Harry’s bathtub with its running hot water every single night during their journey.

Finally there was a small table with a few dining chairs, and a separate leather lounge chair. The lattice windows actually held a door, Harry noticed after looking at them more closely, that opened up to a small terrace that overlooked a beautiful garden with mature trees, various bushes and an assortment of flowers. A stone path crossed through it from left to right. That was all Harry could make out in the darkness but he was sure that in daylight the view would be stunning as he could hear several waterfalls nearby.

The floors and walls were all solid light stone, and a small, unlit fireplace sat against the wall that held the door. The bed was made with soft, white sheets, with a blanket folded on the wooden bench that stood as a footrest against the end of the bed.

Harry undressed slowly and didn’t even bother putting on some pyjamas. He blew out the candles that burned around the room lest he accidentally start a fire. He was exhausted as he crawled into the bed, the last few days of hard travel now catching up with him.

Actually, the whole time he’d now spent in Middle-Earth was catching up with him as he lay on his back and stared straight up into the darkness.

There was no going back.

Hermione had been very clear about that when she’d explained the ritual to him. The destination was always random, you couldn’t choose which exact world you ended up in. The only thing you could do was add some parameters to the ritual, like that it had to be a world with immortal people in it. But that was all. So even if Harry chose to use the ritual again, he would almost certainly not end up back in the wizarding world.

Heaving a deep sigh, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and rested his arm over his face. He’d truly left all he’d ever known behind and now he found himself in a beautiful place where most people openly distrusted him.

Except for one person. Harry once again realized how lucky he was that he’d met Bilbo Baggins because his life would have been infinitely more complicated if he hadn’t. He doubted he’d have found the elves and Rivendell so soon.

His exhaustion did claim him before long and Harry fell into a fitful sleep.

In the morning, the bells woke Harry up. He made use of the cold water to wash up and brush his teeth, and then he dug around in his backpack for some clean clothes. Just a simple t-shirt and some jeans, since the weather was looking to get quite warm that day. He made a mental note to do some laundry soon because he was running out of clean clothes and cleaning charms could only do so much before his clothes started smelling like dirty clothes permanently.

A knock on his door announced Bilbo’s arrival.

“Come along, Harry,” Bilbo said, looking up at Harry with a wide smile when Harry opened the door. “I’m starving and the elves do offer a good spread.”

“Morning,” Harry said, unable to hold back a grin. Thankfully his melancholic mood of the previous night had disappeared and Harry was eager to see Rivendell by daylight.

The verdict? Stunning. Absolutely stunning.

Harry glimpsed some of it as they passed a window and he had to stop and gape, his mouth hanging open as he took in the many waterfalls and the unique architecture that flowed like the river that ran through the valley.

“It is quite something, isn’t it?” Bilbo said with a proud nod, looking as though he himself had designed every last speck of it. “Of course, it’s not quite the Shire.”

“I’m going to visit you in the Shire,” Harry told his friend with a stern look. “You can only mention the beauty of your home so many times before people actually want to see it.”

Chuckling, Bilbo gave Harry a cheeky wink. “Why do you think I talk about my home so often? I adore having friends visit.”

They made their way to the great hall, meanwhile admiring the many tapestries and paintings that adorned the walls. There were also plenty of statues inside and outside the building, and Harry spotted a few murals in the distance he vowed to study up close when he had the chance. The hall was quite busy with elves standing in line for the buffet style breakfast that was served, while others were seated at some of the long tables to eat. Though there were plenty of elves present it was clear the hall was built to house many more people. Harry wondered if they were too early or too late, or if the hall was built like that with an eye on receiving large numbers of visitors or something.

Breakfast was quite varied, with slices of dark bread with lots of dried fruit and nuts in it. Harry got two of those because he hadn’t had bread in a few weeks. The hot dishes were served in large metal bowls that stood over small candles to keep them warm. There were scrambled eggs and slices of ham, which Harry also got. There was also a hot vegetable stew of sorts, which people seemed to be eating with their eggs. Next was a bowl of what seemed like thick yoghurt with separate bowls of fresh fruit and mixed sweet nuts covered in honey syrup. Harry got a little bit of everything, as did Bilbo. Finally they poured themselves cups of herbal tea, which smelled like raspberry.

They found an empty spot at a table and sat down to enjoy the excellent food. Harry studied the elves around them. All had gorgeous long hair, but they were varied in their hair colour. Some had very dark hair, some a light blond and some had hair that looked silver. And all were ridiculously good looking, both the males and the females. Their skin was flawless, their statures tall and lean and their gazes alert and glittering.

But none were as handsome as the one who just entered the hall. He was also the only one Harry had seen so far with truly golden hair.

Glorfindel quickly scanned the crowd and his shoulders seemed to relax a bit when he spotted Harry and Bilbo. Harry wanted to tell himself this was because Glorfindel was happy to see him, but in truth it was probably because Glorfindel didn’t trust Harry one bit for whatever reason and was determined to keep an eye on him.

After filling his own plate with an assortment of foods, Glorfindel sat down next to Harry without any ceremony and gave him a penetrating look, eyes narrowed. Yeah, he was giving Harry a few very clear non-verbal warnings not to make trouble or else.

“Morning, my Lord,” Bilbo said cheerfully.

“Morning,” Glorfindel said with a short nod at them both. Then he tucked into his breakfast without saying another word.

Harry looked at him for a moment longer before shaking his head and returning to his own breakfast. Meanwhile, Bilbo was looking between them like he was seeing the funniest stage performance of his whole life. Food was one of the few things that could shut Bilbo up for any length of time so they enjoyed a quiet meal, at least for a while. Just as Bilbo got going again on the virtues of Rivendell’s library, Raithon, the chatty elf they’d met the previous night, appeared behind Harry.

“Lord Elrond will see you now, Mr Harry Potter.”

For a moment Harry was confused what to do with his dirty plate and bowl, but Bilbo waved him off. “I’ll take care of those. Don’t keep Lord Elrond waiting.”

Glorfindel looked as though he was quietly debating whether to join Harry but apparently decided against it at the last moment and he relaxed in his seat again while Harry followed Raithon out of the hall. Raithon made his way outside, much to Harry’s surprise, but he soon spotted Elrond standing near a mature tree while he was looking up into the sky, as though enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face.

“Ah, Mr Potter, there you are. Thank you, Raithon.” Elrond gestured for Harry to fall into step with him, which Harry did willingly enough. “I figured I’d give you a tour of Imladris while we get to know each other.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with sincere gratitude and a small bow. “For the tour and for letting me stay.”

Elrond stared at Harry, his gaze filled with kindness and patience, but there was an underlying hardness in his eyes as well. This man was generally a good guy, but Harry could tell at once that he was not someone to cross. This man had seen battle and could kill without a second thought if the situation required it, of that Harry had no doubt. “Tell me about your decision to come here,” Elrond said, forgoing small-talk for which Harry was grateful.

Harry released a deep sigh. He knew that this was the moment he had to be completely honest. Elrond had all the power in Rivendell and could easily kick him out if he wished. “In my world, I was born human. But because of an accident I had no control over, I stopped aging. I’m almost 150 years old but I still look like I’m 18.” It took Harry quite a while to get the whole story out, since Westron still tripped him up more often than not. “All the people I loved died and I was left behind.” Harry had to swallow a few times before he could continue. “My friend Hermione found a ritual that would send me to another world with immortal people, only I had no idea what that world looked like.”

“It was our world,” Elrond guessed with an understanding nod.

“Yes. I appeared right in front of Bilbo.” Harry chuckled for a moment, unable to hold back a smile when talking about his new friend. “And what a good thing that was! Bilbo took me under his wing and taught me Westron. I am very lucky to be able to call him my friend.”

“And Bilbo brought you here,” Elrond said, face scrunched up in a thoughtful frown. “My sons tell me you can perform extraordinary feats of magic.”

Harry shrugged helplessly. “In my world they are normal. We learn them as children in school and we use them every day.”

Elrond narrowed his gaze while he gave Harry a calculating look. “Would you be able to teach us this magic?”

Blinking his eyes a few times, Harry slowed his pace, surprised by that question. “I had not thought about that, but I doubt it very much. In my world you have to have magic of your own to be able to use it. You cannot teach it to people without magic.”

“And if you could use your magic in Imladris, what would you do?” Elrond almost made it sound like a challenge.

Harry perked up. He knew the answer to that question at once. “I’d build you a bathhouse with running hot water.”

Elrond laughed outright at that. “My sons did mention your magical bathing room with its endless hot water. Very well.” They stopped in front of a building that looked abandoned but had once probably served as a residential building with suites much like the one Harry was staying in. “This building is empty and we have no use for it anymore. Will this suit you to turn into bathing facilities?”

“Sure!” Harry could easily transfigure what he needed and make the most amazing bathhouse Middle-Earth had ever seen.

“Then you are allowed to work on it in the afternoons. In the mornings, you are expected to work in the kitchens.” Elrond did not look apologetic at all while he basically ordered Harry to do manual labour.

“I’d be happy to work where ever you need me,” Harry said and he meant that. Rivendell was an amazing place but it could only function if everyone did some hard work. And Harry was not opposed to hard work of any kind, especially when it helped others.

“Good. Bilbo already volunteered to work in the kitchen gardens, but I believe you can be put to better use in the kitchens.” Elrond then pointed out a few buildings in the distance and started talking about the arts and crafts they produced in Rivendell.

Apparently they produced lots of items they sold or traded with outsiders for things they couldn’t produce themselves. They had plenty of fruit and nut trees and lots of kitchen gardens dotted around the valley. Plus sheep and goats grazed around the valley and up above it for meat, milk and wool. They even fattened pigs on acorns and beechnuts in the woods above the valley. They also hunted and gathered things like wild mushrooms. And they fished in the river.

But the only thing Rivendell wasn’t able to produce in large enough amounts was grains. Wheat, barley, oats and buckwheat were all things the elves enjoyed eating but had to bring in from outside. Another thing they bought was wine, since it was difficult to grow enough grapes in the valley. The weather wasn’t quite right for it. Harry learned they did produce some alcoholic beverages in some small amounts themselves, such as elderberry wine and blackberry liquor.

They produced pottery, leather, metal tools, musical instruments, paintings and more to sell and trade for those items they needed to bring in from the outside.

Elrond was an engaging story teller and Harry listened eagerly as they looped back to the main building. Finally, Elrond pointed him in the direction of the kitchens. “Ask for Gaeven,” Elrond told him. “He speaks Westron.”

“Thank you.” Harry gave Elrond a deep bow before they parted ways. “For giving me a chance.”

“You are most welcome.” And with that, Elrond walked into the opposite direction, hands clasped behind his back.

Well, that had gone as good as could be expected, Harry figured. He was allowed to stay for the time being, he’d been given a job and a challenge, both which Harry promised himself he was going to excel at no matter what.

The kitchens were a separate building built partially into the sheer rock cliff behind it and connected to the main building by a large hallway.

“I’m looking for Gaeven,” Harry asked hesitantly as he walked inside the bustling kitchen. One elf looked up with raised eyebrows from a large pot she was stirring over one of the many cast iron stoves that stood around the kitchen. She pointed her hand at a dark-haired elf who seemed to be telling a few other elves what to do.

“Gaeven?” Harry slowly stepped up to the man. “I’m Harry. Lord Elrond sent me to work here.”

“Ah yes, the human they had promised me,” Gaeven said and then looked at Harry with something akin to pity. “Lord Glorfindel just left. He was adamant you’d be given prep work to do. So apologies in advance, but I have my orders and this needs to be done.” Gaeven led Harry to a small, separate room where a mountain of onions awaited them. “All these need to be sliced.” Gaeven gestured at a few very large, copper bowls. “Fill all those and that should be enough for the stew and soup we’re serving today.” With that, Gaeven hurried out of the closet, because that’s what it was, really.

Harry got out his wand and got to work. First he cast a simple shield charm, to spare his eyes, and then he used basic charms to peel and slice the onions until he had enough to fill all the large bowls. He took his time, making sure no peels ended up with the onions, but it still only took him ten minutes at the most. Harry levitated the full bowls behind him as he walked back into the kitchen and placed them on the first empty surface he found.

The kitchens were large and busy, with plenty of stoves and in a room beyond the main area Harry could see various wood-fired ovens built into the wall. Another hallway led to what Harry assumed was cold storage built into the rock wall where the temperature would remain cool and stable year round. Another hallway led to what looked like a creamery, where cheese was made, and yet another part was clearly an area for butchering, if all the knives and thick, wooden blocks were any indication.

It was a well-appointed kitchen, considering they had no real technology to rely on.

Harry waved Gaeven over and gestured at the bowls. “I’m done. Was there anything else you needed doing?”

Gaeven looked from the bowls of sliced onions to Harry and back again. “I heard rumours a second born wizard had appeared but I hadn’t believed those fanciful tales. But you really are a wizard, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Harry said with a decisive nod. “I’m also a wizard who happens to enjoy cooking.”

“Well, that’s more than we can say for Mithrandir. He’s certainly never sliced onions for us.” Gaeven got a bit of shrewd look on his face. “What else can you do?”

Harry answered his look with a challenging one of his own. “Try me.”

And Gaeven did. Harry peeled and chopped carrots, beets, turnips and parsnips with a few flicks of his wand. Then he sliced bread just as easily and even ground spices with a simple charm. Gaeven seemed to fall in love with Harry a little bit more with every little thing he did.

After Kreacher had died, twenty years after the war, and Harry was a staunch bachelor who refused to get into any long-term relationships because he didn’t want that kind of heartbreak, he’d taken up cooking. He’d learned the basics at the Dursleys and he’d taken both muggle and magical cooking classes, because he genuinely enjoyed cooking with and without magic.

“I am glad to have you with us in the kitchens, wizard,” Gaeven said, patting Harry on the shoulder an hour later. “I’ve got nothing more to do for you right now, but we’ll gladly welcome you back tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be here,” Harry promised him. He honestly hadn’t minded the work and he enjoyed getting to know some more people, even if most of them didn’t speak any Westron. All the elves had appeared happy enough to have him around once they realized how much work he could do in almost no time at all.

Harry hurried towards the empty residential building to check it out, figuring he had at least a few hours left before the midday meal. The bells would tell him when it was time to head back.

The residential building was clearly abandoned but everything was still in one piece. Harry strolled through it, taking in the layout and considering how he could best utilize the space to turn it into the most amazing bathhouse ever. The building had two stories, and Harry figured that he could open up a large space on the ground floor to turn it into a communal bathing room, almost like a swimming pool, and then keep the suites on the first floor as private bathing rooms if people wanted to bathe by themselves or in pairs. The whole building was made of the same white stone one saw all around Rivendell and it was easy enough to transfigure. Harry opened up the walls all around the ground floor, though he did leave columns in place so the whole structure would still be supported properly. He also created a clear entrance hall with double doors, so they could keep the heat in during the winter when people entered or left the building.

Harry considered the open space he’d created. The first thing he did was raise a wall right in the middle of it to separate the area for males and for females. Harry had seen in the bathhouse that this separation was expected. He had kept a few suites on each side which he turned into changing rooms, with little cubicles where people could leave their clothes and belongings. Then he created a large sloping pool on each side, plus a few smaller round pools which could function as places with water of different temperatures. He also turned all the lattice windows around the whole building opaque, so light could come in but no one could peek inside.

By the time Harry was done with all that the bells started ringing and he made his way back to the main building for the midday meal. Harry had learned that morning that the midday meal was the main meal served in Imladris, and that the evening meal was made up of leftovers, bread, cold cuts and cheese and sometimes soup or salad, depending on the season.

Bilbo was already seated with a heaping plate in front of him, and Harry got in line with the other elves. He drew some curious looks here and there but most of the elves seemed to not care about him one way or another.

Who did seem to care about him in one very specific way was Glorfindel, who appeared behind Harry in line as though he apparated there.

“Did you enjoy your time in the kitchen?” Glorfindel asked with a smug little smile, clearly expecting Harry to give some kind of chagrined response.

“Oh yes, very much,” Harry said honestly. “I love cooking, so I don’t mind preparing food.”

Glorfindel widened his eyes a bit before he harumphed and gestured Harry forwards with an impatient wave of his hand. “You’re holding up the line, wizard.”

“Now I’m working on a new bathhouse,” Harry said, ridiculously pleased to see Glorfindel brought down maybe one tenth of a peg by Harry’s genuinely enjoyment of Rivendell so far.

“Imladris has perfectly functional bathing facilities already,” said the elf who’d spent every evening lounging in Harry’s bathtub full of hot water for at least an hour when they travelled together.

“Certainly,” Harry replied, barely able to hold back the laughter that wanted to bubble up. “But alas, there is no running hot water. I’m changing that.”

The blonde elf lady in front of Harry turned around and gave Harry a look full of disbelief. In broken Westron she asked, “You giving us hot water?”

Harry nodded. “Once the new bathhouse is finished there will be running hot water all day and all night.” Then he raised his hand and gave the elf lady a little wave. “Hi, I’m Harry.”

The elf lady’s smile was wide and full of obvious happiness. “I am Narthrien.” She then leaned a little closer and whispered, “Is also for clothes washing? We now wash clothes in cold water. Not nice.” Narthrien made a face that clearly indicated how she felt about that particular chore.

“Move.” Glorfindel gave Harry a soft shove in his back. “Some of us want to eat within the next hour.”

That elf. Harry took a very deliberate step forwards while Narthrien quickly did the same as she gave Glorfindel a look that sat somewhere between disbelief and serious concern for his mental wellbeing.

“I’ll add something for clothes washing,” Harry promised Narthrien easily as they shuffled forwards while Glorfindel huffed behind him.

“Thank you,” Narthrien said with a bright little smile. “I am washing sheets all day. Is very cold on hands.”

“I understand. I’ll create the most amazing laundry facilities this world has ever seen.” Harry received another shove in his back for that and he quickly shuffled forwards. Who knew an immortal elf who was probably older than dirt could be so petty about Harry’s amazing magical gifts.

There was a stew with large chunks of meat that were perfectly cooked so they fell apart the moment you touched them with a spoon. There was also an assortment of roast vegetables and slices of dark bread with butter. Finally there was a simple salad of different greens and radishes. Harry got a bit of everything and quickly joined Bilbo at his table after saying goodbye to Narthrien.

“How were the kitchens?” Bilbo asked, already aware what Harry had been up to apparently. Then again, Bilbo seemed to be a magnet for gossip, which he’d told Harry was true for most hobbits. They simply liked to keep up with all the news around them concerning everyone they knew.

Glorfindel sat down beside Harry again, for reasons. Harry ignored him. His spine still ached where Glorfindel had abused it.

“They have great kitchens here,” Harry said with genuine enthusiasm. “I was happy to help them.” He stirred his spoon around in his stew and grinned at Bilbo. “I cut every vegetable in the stew.”

“And I’ve seen where they were grown,” Bilbo said, warming up to the subject at once. “They have magnificent gardens here, full of every kind of vegetable you can imagine. I have my own little plot in the Shire where I grow a few cabbages, some potatoes and onions, and a few other things, but that is nothing compared to what they grow here.”

Harry ate and listened to Bilbo chatter about his new job in the gardens, which he seemed to genuinely enjoy. Just as Harry was done eating, Raithon appeared again.

“Lord Erestor will see you now, Mr Harry Potter,” Raithon said, much to Harry’s surprise. He had no idea who Erestor was or why Harry should see him.

Beside him, Glorfindel suddenly looked as though he’d received the best news in years and he gave Harry a smile that was full of dark pleasure at Harry’s imminent demise.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Erestor appeared to be the love child between Snape and McGonagall. Not in looks, no. Erestor was as handsome and ethereal as any elf in Rivendell with his long, dark hair and glittering grey eyes. But his demeanour was such that Harry couldn’t help be reminded of his two former professors.

“I have managed to clear my very busy schedule to teach you Sindarin,” Erestor announced while Harry sat down at a small desk across from Erestor’s own desk in his study off the library. “Though Eru knows it’s probably a waste of my time because usually by the time the second born truly master Sindarin they are old and die.”

Harry clenched his jaws and kept a polite smile on his face. He’d survived six years of classes with Severus fucking Snape, a man who truly despised him on a personal level, so he could most certainly survive one language course from a snooty, condescending elf.

Was that what Glorfindel was hoping for, that Harry lost his temper or would storm off in a childish huff? Harry was about to show that elf how good of a student he could really be even in the face of an undesirable teacher.

“We start on page one.” Erestor gestured at the book he’d placed in front of Harry, together with a piece of slate and a length of chalk. Erestor stepped in front of the blackboard that hung from his wall and picked up a piece of chalk while he gave Harry a pointed look to get going.

Harry quickly opened the book and saw hand written writing and hand drawn pictures. Very simple pictures. The book they were using was clearly meant for children, but that didn’t put Harry off one bit. He’d go with the flow and learn this language as best as he could.

The Sindarin alphabet was truly beautiful, it had to be said. Bilbo had made an effort to teach Harry how to write Westron, and Harry had made a bit of progress with that, enough that he knew the entire Westron alphabet and could read and write at least the more popular words in that language. But the Westron alphabet was clunky and rough compared to the Sindarin words Harry saw on the page.

The first word he learned was the Sindarin word for mountain, which was amon. Erestor wrote it on the blackboard and Harry copied it carefully on his piece of slate. Then Erestor had Harry repeat the word amon many times until he seemed satisfied with Harry’s pronunciation. Or as satisfied as an elf like Erestor could ever really be.

The second word was forest, which was eryn. Then came star, which was gil. And then came a few more words while Erestor kept a careful eye on Harry’s piece of slate and his admittedly poor writing of the Sindarin words. It just took some getting used to, especially writing with chalk on a piece of slate.

Once Erestor gave Harry his twentieth disapproving look at his poor writing, Harry sighed, picked up his backpack and fished out the notebook and self-inking quill he’d been using for Bilbo’s Westron lessons. Without saying anything, he opened it up to a clean page and quickly wrote down the Sindarin words he’d learned so far, with both the English and the Westron words behind them.

Erestor stared at Harry in absolute horror, as though he was seeing him transform into an orc in front of his eyes. “Why are you wasting paper like that?”

Harry blinked and looked up in confusion. “I write better with a quill,” Harry explained, unsure why Erestor was looking at him like that. “And this way I keep a book of what I learn and I can read it again. I did the same when Bilbo was teaching me Westron.”

Erestor sniffed and shook his head. “I knew the second born could be wasteful but this is unheard of. Using paper to learn how to write.”

Harry shrugged and went back to writing in his notebook. Erestor apparently forgot Harry was a wizard who could easily transfigure just about anything he wanted into more notebooks. He’d never run out of paper. Or perhaps people hadn’t actually told Erestor who and what Harry was, seeing as Erestor also assumed Harry was mortal.

Oh well. Not Harry’s problem. He was there to learn the language, nothing more.

After an hour and a half, Erestor sent him away, telling him to come back the next day after the midday meal. Apparently Harry was having daily Sindarin lessons for the foreseeable future, not that he minded. Yeah, Erestor was a bit of a demanding arse, but Harry truly wanted to learn the language so he was happy to put up with one arrogant teacher.

“Can I take the book with me?” Harry asked, holding up the Sindarin language book he’d been using.

Erestor gave him a look as though Harry had asked him if he could murder Erestor’s only child right before his eyes, so Harry quickly put the book down again and left the study in a hurry.

Inside the library, Harry ran into Bilbo, who was seated in a comfortable chair with a large book opened in his lap. “How was it?” Bilbo demanded, closing his own book at once.

“Not bad,” Harry said, showing Bilbo his progress in his notebook.

Bilbo nodded as he read the words and then gave Harry an encouraging smile. “You must give me the notebook during our meals and I will test you on your vocabulary.”

“That would be great, thanks!” Harry left Bilbo soon after because his head was full and he wanted some fresh air. So he made his way back to his bathhouse and sat down on the floor, just letting his head empty for a moment while he breathed deeply in and out.

Staying in Rivendell had been a dual experience so far. Some of the elves genuinely seemed to like him and appreciate his magical efforts, but others were condescending in their opinion of humans or turned out to be just plain bullies like Glorfindel.

Still, Harry had a home, for now, and there were people who wouldn’t age, and that was all Harry could hope for so soon in his stay in this whole new world.

With his head much calmer, Harry released one last, deep sigh and got back to work on adding built in bathing tubs to all the individual rooms on the first floor.

The bells announced that the final meal of the day was served and it genuinely took Harry by surprise. The time had flown by while he was working and he hadn’t even noticed his stomach growling as the day progressed.

The meal consisted of leftover stew, bread and cold cuts, with more of the yoghurt, dried fruits and sweet nuts as a dessert. Harry loaded up his plate and joined Bilbo as usual. He told Bilbo about his new bathhouse, which was apparently news to Bilbo. The hobbit immediately had a thousand questions and Harry promised to give him the full tour the next day. At this point Glorfindel sat down next to Harry, much too close as was polite and deliberately bumping Harry with his elbow. Harry bit back a vicious reply, rolled his eyes much to Bilbo’s amusement and kept eating as though nothing had happened.

After the meal most people gathered in what Bilbo called the hall of fire, which was a large gathering space with lots of chairs, small tables and a huge fireplace, which was currently unlit since the temperature was mild as it was early summer.

A few elves had brought instruments, like small harps and flutes and they played music. Various elves would join in, singing the songs in their native tongues.

It was truly beautiful music, even Harry had to admit that and he knew nothing about music in the first place. Back in the wizarding world Harry had barely listened to music, muggle or magical. He much preferred to listen to a Quidditch match on the wireless whenever he wanted some background noise. And the Dursleys hadn’t been the type to have the radio on all day either, so Harry hadn’t even grown up listening to muggle music.

But the elven music seemed almost magical and at once a sense of peace came over Harry as he sipped a cup of herbal tea, seated beside Bilbo on a small bench.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Bilbo said, his eyes suspiciously bright. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to visit Rivendell again. The elven music can heal your soul like nothing else can.”

Harry swallowed and nodded, suddenly too emotional to speak. The music truly did touch your soul, and Harry’s soul had always been a battered one, thanks to Voldemort’s horcrux and the loss of his friends. He shared a small, watery smile with Bilbo, who looked just as emotional as Harry felt and together they sipped tea and listened and slowly, very slowly, they healed just a little bit.

And that is how Harry spent his first week in Rivendell. He slept in his nice suite, he joined Bilbo for all the meals in the hall where Bilbo tested his progress in learning Sindarin, then he spent his mornings in the kitchen doing whatever work that needed doing and quickly becoming Gaeven’s favourite person in the whole world. In the afternoon Harry spent an hour or two enduring Erestor as he slowly learned more and more Sindarin, and afterwards he was free to spend a few hours working on his amazing bathhouse, which was coming along nicely. Evenings were spent in the halls of fire, listening to music or chatting with Bilbo, Gaeven or Raithon, who all were happy enough to spend an evening speaking Westron with their newest resident.

Meanwhile, Glorfindel kept up his subtle bullying and it cost Harry more and more effort to not explode in his fucking face, because he had no idea why Glorfindel singled him out like that every single day. He hadn’t done anything to that elf, aside from healing his fucking horse.

It all came to a head in the hall of fire, when Harry had been in Rivendell for nine days and was enjoying himself a great deal.

The elven musicians had just finished playing a beautiful song that Harry had enjoyed like usual. He was even starting to recognize certain Sindarin words in the lyrics that he knew the meaning of, which was nice.

“Wizard,” Glorfindel called across the room from where he stood with a group of elves Harry didn’t know. Glorfindel gestured at Harry with his cup of wine. “Sing us a song of your people.”

“Er…” Harry gave Bilbo an alarmed look, but Bilbo only smiled in encouragement.

“Go on,” Bilbo said, looking as though he, too, would love to hear Harry sing.

“I know no songs,” Harry managed to stutter, truly feeling like he’d suddenly been placed in front of a firing squad. “I cannot sing.”

This was met with lots of whispers and looks of absolute pity. Apparently to the elves not knowing songs or not being able to sing was on the same level as being told you had an incurable disease and you were on your deathbed or something, given their extreme reactions.

Glorfindel sniffed and shook his head, as though he’d expected just such incompetence from Harry and he wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

And Harry had enough. He was just fucking done. He’d put up with over a week of constant bullying and belittling while he’d done absolutely nothing to deserve it. Harry sprang to his feet and was about to rush towards Glorfindel to give him a very detailed piece of his mind when Gaeven stepped directly in his path.

“Come, walk with me,” Gaeven said, putting his hand on Harry’s arm and leading him to the open doors and out onto the veranda. Raithon hurried after them while he glanced over his shoulder as though to make sure no one had noticed anything amiss. Bilbo was there as well, naturally, because that hobbit wasn’t about to miss any drama, even if he had to run to keep up with the rest, his pipe trailing clouds of smoke after him.

“I’m sick of it,” Harry grumbled when Gaeven came to a stop under a large beech tree in the adjoining gardens. They were surrounded by trees and plots of flowers and the darkness kept them quite well hidden.

“I understand your frustration,” Gaeven said with a slow nod. “But you must understand that Lord Glorfindel is testing you for very good reasons.”

“What reasons?” Harry hissed, doing his very best not to take his anger out on an elf who didn’t have anything to do with Harry’s burning rage. “I’ve never done anything to him.”

“Raithon, perhaps you should tell the tale,” Gaeven suggested to their companions. “You are the historian, after all.”

Harry glanced at Raithon in surprise. So far he’d sussed out that Raithon was an assistant of sorts of both Erestor and Elrond, and delivered messages for them, as well as took care of some correspondence. Harry hadn’t realized until that moment that Raithon was also apparently an official historian.

Raithon briefly closed his eyes. “Let’s see how best to tell this tale without it taking hours.” Raithon narrowed his eyes as he stared at Harry. “Once you have enough of an understanding of Sindarin, you must read some of our history books. I will make you some recommendations when that time comes.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with a solemn nod, his anger having subsided for the most part now that he was about to get some answers. “I was already planning to learn your history.”

“Good.” Raithon drew in a deep breath and seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment. “I’m leaving a lot out, mind you, but this will explain Lord Glorfindel’s behaviour. In the first age, there was a Dark Lord who waged war against all the free people. The elves, the dwarves, and the men of Middle-Earth. His name was Morgoth, and his most trusted lieutenant was named Sauron, who was very powerful and almost all feared him in his own right.

“Morgoth was defeated after a great battle that lasted many years and that broke the land. Sauron fled before he could be brought to justice. The second age dawned and for a time the people of Middle-Earth knew peace.”

Harry listened attentively, fascinated by what he was hearing. He’d already guessed that the elves had faced some very powerful enemies in their past, if the many murals of battles that Harry had seen so far were any indication.

Raithon brushed some of his silver hair out of his face and continued with a faraway look in his grey eyes. “I was born in the second age, in Lindon, where Lord Elrond lived as an advisor to our ruler, the High King Gil-Galad. One day we learned that a powerful being calling himself Annatar, Lord of Gifts, had come to Eregion, where Celebrimbor ruled, who was a descendant of some of the greatest elves that ever lived. Gil-Galad didn’t trust this Lord who had shown up out of the blue, performing great magical feats for the benefit of all.”

Harry inhaled a sharp breath, already seeing where this was going and what it had to do with him.

Raithon gave Harry a knowing smile as he continued. “But Celebrimbor did accept Annatar and his gifts and together they created many powerful artifacts for Celebrimbor was a gifted smith. Then Annatar finally showed his true face.”

“It was Sauron, wasn’t it?” Harry guessed with a resigned little sigh.

“Indeed it was.” Raithon waited a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. “Many battles followed as Sauron made war against everyone, and Glorfindel fought in most of them. Eregion was laid to waste, and Celebrimbor was tortured and killed by Sauron himself. Finally, at the end of the second age a great battle and a long siege followed that saw Sauron defeated for a long time. But of late he has been stirring again in the east as we’ve recently learned. And then suddenly you show up, with your wondrous magic.”

Harry ran a tired hand across his face. Now he understood. All too well, even. “How can any of you ever trust me?” he asked, more to himself than to his companions.

Gaeven snorted and gave Harry an amused little smile. “My parents were born under the light of the two trees and crossed the grinding ice following Fingolfin. I was born in the first age when Fingolfin was our High King, and I was there in Eregion when Annatar arrived. I have seen him with my own eyes.” Gaeven leaned a little closer to Harry, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Sauron would never have sliced a mountain of onions, with or without magic.”

Bilbo threw his head back and laughed at that, and Harry couldn’t hold back a chuckle either.

“I am no famed elf lord,” Gaeven said, righting himself again. “But I have seen the enemy, and I have fought the enemy many times. And I can tell your intentions are benign, Harry Potter.”

“You have to understand,” Raithon added with a sympathetic curve of his brows. “Glorfindel is the Captain of the Guard. He is our greatest warrior and he is responsible for Rivendell’s safety.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Harry shook his head, finally understanding why Glorfindel seemed to have it out for him personally. Glorfindel was pushing Harry, sometimes literally, to see his reactions. To draw him out. To see what he would do once he got angry enough. Harry had made it to Head Auror before he quit and went on to teach at Hogwarts for many decades, so he understood that sense of responsibility all too well.

So while Harry couldn’t blame Glorfindel, he did want his bullying to stop. Frowning, Harry thought about how he could accomplish that. Perhaps he should be honest about some of his own history in return, so others might understand that Harry would never, ever side with any Dark Lord.

“Wait here a moment,” Harry said, turning on the spot. He all but ran back to the building, where Glorfindel stood in the opened doorway, sipping wine and pretending not to eavesdrop. Harry had learned that elves had exceptionally good hearing so he was sure that Glorfindel had heard every word.

Harry gave him no time to speak. “Come with me.” Harry grabbed Glorfindel’s wrist and gave him an unforgiving yank so Glorfindel had no choice but to follow Harry or he’d fall flat on his face. Harry hauled the elf back to his companions.

“You will listen,” Harry said, raising a finger when it looked like Glorfindel was about to tell Harry off. “After I’m done you can yell at me.”

Glorfindel still didn’t seem convinced as he narrowed his eyes, but then Gaeven said, “Let him speak. Hear him out.”

The two elves shared a few looks that Harry couldn’t make any sense of until Glorfindel finally gestured at Harry to carry on.

Raising his hair up with a hand, Harry turned his face towards Glorfindel. Even though his scar had lessened over the years, it had never gone away entirely. “A Dark Lord gave me this scar when I was one year old, after he killed my parents. He used the foulest of magic that should have killed me instantly, but instead it made a bond between us. His name was Voldemort.”

Bilbo inhaled a shocked breath as he stared up at Harry with worried eyes.

Harry had no intention of mentioning the horcruxes, unsure even how to explain them in Westron, but he could explain most everything else. “We met again when I was eleven, when he offered to bring back my parents if only I sided with him. I told him no and he attacked me. I barely survived. For years after that he tried to kill me. He killed many people I loved. Finally, when I was 17 there was a huge battle and my teacher, who was old and wise told me that the only way for Voldemort to die, was for me to die as well. The bond between us was keeping him alive.”

“Harry, no,” Bilbo said, clearly overcome with emotions as he placed a comforting hand on Harry’s forearm. Glorfindel’s expression in the meantime had become utterly unreadable.

Harry swallowed. “So I walked to my death. Faced Voldemort without a wand and he cast his foul magic on me. This time it worked. I died.”

Gaeven muttered something in Sindarin that Harry couldn’t understand while Bilbo looked ready to burst into tears.

“But I was told I could go back, finish the job. So I did.” Harry shrugged while he glanced down at his feet. He hated having to recount these events, even if they had happened a long time ago. He’d just never been happy to draw that kind of attention to himself. “I killed him, and a few years later I noticed that I wasn’t aging. Everyone around me grew old and died and I still look the same as I did the day I died.”

Harry took a few steps closer to Glorfindel, standing toe to toe with him while he glared up at the elf, letting a bit of magic pool in his eyes, knowing they must almost be glowing green. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but understand this. Even if Sauron came to me and offered me anything I desired, even to bring all my loved ones back, I would tell him no and I would spit in his face while doing so. And then I’d fight him with everything I have.”

Glorfindel blinked very slowly, his face still a mask Harry couldn’t make sense of. Everyone else remained quiet while Harry and Glorfindel stared into each other’s eyes, neither one looking away or even speaking.

Finally, Harry had enough of that particular challenge, or whatever the hell Glorfindel thought he was doing. “If you want me to stop using magic around here, I will.”

“Now, now,” Gaeven said quickly with an alarmed look on his face, probably worrying about having to slice onions by hand again. “Don’t be hasty, Harry.”

Harry ignored him. “If you want me to stop building the bathhouse, I will.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them and when Harry looked over his shoulder he saw Elrond standing there, Erestor, Elladan and Elrohir by his side.

“I should warn you, Glorfindel,” Elrond said, looking rather amused, much to Harry’s relief. “That most inhabitants of Imladris know about Harry’s project and should you demand Harry not finish his bathhouse, you will have a riot on your hands.”

“Yes, you will,” Elladan said in a flat voice while Elrohir gave Glorfindel a mutinous glare.

Glorfindel took a step away from Harry, holding up both hands in a sign of surrender. “I won’t make those demands.” He briefly shared a look with Elrond. “But I do expect you to run any new magic you plan on using here past me first.”

“Fine,” Harry said, crossing his arms and giving Glorfindel a bit of a mulish scowl. “As long as you stop angering me.” Harry didn’t know the Westron word for bullying, if it even existed at all. “Not just Dark Lords would become enraged if you push them enough. It also goes for normal people like me.”

“Very well,” Glorfindel said with an utterly innocent smile on his face, that enormous arse. “I will stop pushing you around as long as you report your magic to me.”

“Done.” Harry quickly glanced at Elrond, who seemed more than pleased with these results.

“How long until the bathhouse is done, Harry?” Elladan asked with an eager smile. Elrohir immediately smiled in the exact same way as his brother.

“Not very long, a week at the most. I am adding laundry facilities as well, so it’s taking me a bit longer,” Harry said, at once in a much better mood now that he could talk about his pet project. He truly enjoyed creating a bathhouse from scratch like that and he couldn’t wait to see people’s reactions.

“Laundry facilities?” Erestor asked with a frown. “Whatever for?”

“Because washing your dirty sheets in cold water is not nice,” Harry said with a bit of venom in his voice, offended on behalf of Rivendell’s washers. “It hurts the hands.”

Erestor huffed while he gave Harry a look as though he was talking gibberish.

“Well, let us return and enjoy the rest of our evening,” Elrond said diplomatically before a whole new fight could break out, this time concerning the laundry.

Harry was interested to see, though, that there was a very real class difference between certain elves and where they stood in society. Gaeven was a very old elf, apparently, who’d fought in many battles, yet he worked in the kitchens. He was one of the elves in charge there, sure, but it was still manual labour. Raithon, who was younger than Gaeven, had a higher position as assistant to a couple of Elf Lords.

Once he knew enough Sindarin, Harry was determined to work his way through the entire library to learn everything he could about elves and their history so he’d hopefully gain a better understanding of the society he now lived in.

Just as they all trooped back to the hall of fire, a new figure emerged from the shadows. It was an old man with a large hat, carrying a long, wooden staff.

Bilbo perked up and cried, “Gandalf!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

“I was travelling to Rivendell with haste to solve the mystery of a large burst of power we all felt some two months ago while I was visiting with Saruman, but I do believe I have found the answer,” Gandalf said, leaning on his staff while he gave Harry a curious look.

Gandalf looked like an old man with bushy eyebrows, overcome with old age, but Harry wasn’t fooled by his appearance. Even though Harry had never been as good at feeling magic as some others he’d known, like Luna or Bill, even he couldn’t miss the quiet drum of power that emanated from the wizard in front of him. The power seemed to be two-fold, one a deep, ancient well of vast magic, and over top of that a thick ward of energy that reminded Harry of Elrond somehow. The Lord of Rivendell also had such a ward around him. Harry wondered if that specific power had something to do with their very old ages.

One thing was certain to Harry, though. Gandalf was no human wizard, even if he pretended to be just that. Gandalf was much, much more than that.

“Mithrandir,” Elrond said with a tiny little smile, looking as though he wasn’t in the least bit surprised that Gandalf had shown up out of the blue like that and had apparently spent the last half hour eavesdropping in his gardens.

“Lord Elrond.” Gandalf gave a small bow and said something in Sindarin. What Harry could make out was that it was a formal greeting of sorts. Then the old wizard turned towards Harry and gave him an intent stare. “I would speak with your guest at once.”

“Certainly.” Elrond gestured at everyone else to follow him.

Bilbo seemed reluctant to and lingered until Gandalf gave him a smile and said, “Bilbo Baggins. It is good to see you again. Your friend will come to no harm. We will all meet up later so you can catch me up on the latest gossip from the Shire.”

“Oh, you’ll never believe what Lobelia Sackville-Baggins tried to do in my absence,” Bilbo said with a beaming smile before he hurried after the others.

For reasons Harry didn’t understand, Glorfindel was also reluctant to leave Harry with Gandalf. Did the elf honestly think Harry would attack the old wizard or what? Glorfindel looked between Harry and Gandalf a few times, then gave a nod and melted into the shadows. Harry had no idea if he’d followed the others back to the hall of fire or if he was lurking in the darkness somewhere, making sure Harry wasn’t Sauron in disguise or something equally ridiculous.

“Your arrival in our world drew the attention of some of us,” Gandalf said as he started walking down the garden path, still leaning on his staff as if to emphasize his old age. Harry wasn’t fooled but fell into step with him anyway.

Harry was curious about the wizard, having heard so much of him from Bilbo ever since meeting the hobbit. Apparently Gandalf had played a crucial role in Bilbo’s recent adventure with the dwarves. “That was not my intention,” Harry said slowly, glancing at the wizard to gauge his reactions. “But I suppose the ritual that sent me here left a powerful mark.”

“You are truly from another world, aren’t you?” Gandalf mumbled with a frown on his face. “Your mind and your magic are like nothing I have ever seen before.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he stared at Gandalf in surprise. Ever since Auror training Harry had mastered Occlumency and even a bit of Legilimency, and he always kept his Occlumency shields up by default.

Gandalf chuckled as though terribly amused by Harry’s extreme reaction. “The walls in your head probably protect your thoughts quite well from others of your kind. But I have no problems seeing your true intentions, Harry Potter.” Gandalf stopped walking and drew himself upright, suddenly striking a very different figure. One of authority who was not to be trifled with. “I must ask you not to use your magic outside of these borders unless in an emergency.”

That took Harry aback and he blinked at Gandalf in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it stands out like a beacon to all who are able to sense such things,” Gandalf said, eyes narrowing as he spoke. “The borders of Imladris are well protected in more ways that one, and in here your magic is hidden. But out there it might very well draw the attention of those who would use you for their own gain.”

“Ah.” Harry got what Gandalf was saying. If Harry used his magic out in the wild, Sauron might notice and try to make Harry his bitch. Yeah, Harry wasn’t about to let that happen. “Understood. I’ll stick to slicing onions and building bathhouses in Rivendell.”

“Good, good. I for one cannot wait to try out your new bathing facilities.” Gandalf did look like he could use a very long soak in a very hot bathtub. His long, grey hair was tangled and his hands and face were grimy with dust and dirt collected on the road.

“It’s almost done.” Harry pursed his lips and then decided to just ask what was on his mind. “So you’re trusting me? Just like that?”

Gandalf leaned a little closer and gave Harry a knowing look. “I happen to know that Bilbo is an excellent judge of character. Just the fact that he’s taking you under his wing is proof enough for me that your intentions aren’t bad.”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a laugh. “Bilbo has become a dear friend, and I would have been lost without him when I first came to this world.”

“Life has its ways of putting the people that would help us the most in our paths when we need them, I find,” Gandalf said and then took a turn that would lead back to the hall of fire.

Harry considered those words and thought back to his own life, how he’d met Ron and Hermione and how important to his survival they’d become over the years. “Wise words. I agree completely.”

“I would speak with you again, Mr Potter,” Gandalf said when the hall came into sight. Glorfindel was lurking in the doorway again, though he slipped inside the moment he saw them approach. What a fucking mess that elf was, seriously. “But for now I cannot wait to hear what Lobelia has done to Bilbo.”

“See you later.” Harry nodded at Gandalf as the old man made a beeline for Bilbo. Harry walked up to one of the serving tables and picked up a cup of red wine. Merlin knew he needed a drink after all that excitement. He sauntered towards Bilbo and stood to the side, listening as Bilbo told the tale of how one of his relatives had basically tried to steal his home and all his belongings, auctioning them off just as Bilbo returned from his adventure. Harry enjoyed seeing the easy friendship between Bilbo and Gandalf, and he was especially glad to see that whatever affection Gandalf had for the hobbit seemed to be genuine. Harry had privately wondered if Gandalf had merely used Bilbo when he’d dragged him along to slay a dragon, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all.

Eventually, Harry left the hall and went to bed, exhausted from all the mental confrontations.

The next morning when Harry entered the great hall for breakfast, he spotted Glorfindel sitting with a group of elves, apparently content to leave Harry alone during their meals from now on. As Harry stood in line, a plan began forming in his head. A very annoying yet devious plan.

Harry may be close to 150 years old but he would always be a little shit at heart and Glorfindel deserved some payback for all the bullying he’d done, no matter he had good reasons to do it. Besides, Harry thought that a haughty Elf Lord like that deserved to be brought down a little.

After loading up his plate with his usual choices of breakfast foods, Harry hurried towards Glorfindel. He stopped right behind the elf and obnoxiously cleared his throat. Glorfindel glanced over his shoulder and gave him a disbelieving look.

“I’ve come to report my magic, my Lord,” Harry said with his most angelic smile while he stood at attention, back straight and shoulders squared, full plate held firmly in his hands. “This morning, I warmed the water in my washing bowl with a magical charm. After I washed myself, I dried myself off with a magical charm. Then I tried to tame my hair with a magical charm. That wasn’t a huge success, as you can see. I’ve yet to find any magic that can win a battle against my hair, I’m afraid.”

Glorfindel slowly closed his eyes and shook his head. Elrohir, who was seated across from him, quickly hid his huge grin behind his hand while his shoulder shook.

“Then I used some magic to clean my clothes and I used a different magical charm to get the wrinkles out,” Harry continued, rattling all the details off like he didn’t have a care in the world. “After that I made my bed with a magical charm, and –”

“Yes, thank you,” Glorfindel finally snapped, narrowing his sapphire eyes while giving Harry an annoyed glance. “You need not report every single piece of simple magic you do.”

“Oh?” Harry blinked innocent eyes at Glorfindel, though it was very difficult to hold back the laughter that wanted to escape him. “But last night you seemed so adamant I inform you of all my magic, so I was simply following your orders.”

Sighing, Glorfindel shook his head, looking like he was dearly regretting all of his recent life choices. “I am going to rephrase that order. I want you to report any large magical projects you plan to undertake, such as the bathhouse, to me.”

“Yes, my Lord! Consider it done.” Harry clapped his heels together like a soldier and then marched off to the table where Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting.

Bilbo was leaning forwards over his plate, overcome with giggles. Gandalf, who was not wearing his hat and who looked a great deal cleaner than the night before, was even smiling in amusement.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled as he sat down across from Bilbo. “I couldn’t resist.”

“No apologies necessary,” Bilbo said after he caught his breath. “He had it coming after pushing you around every single day.”

“It is good to see you can hold your own against the legendary likes of Glorfindel even without your magic,” Gandalf said before turning back to his plate of nut bread, stewed vegetables and fruit salad.

This was not the first time people made allusions that Glorfindel was a figure straight out of myths and legends, and Harry vowed to look him up in the library once he knew enough Sindarin to read the average book.

When Harry arrived in the kitchens for his morning shift, Gaeven offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” he said in hurried Westron. “But Lord Erestor was here just now and he has forbidden us to speak Westron with you from now on. Sindarin only, to help you expand your vocabulary as quickly as possible.”

Harry blinked, part of him wanting to be angry that Erestor the snooty elf was taking away his only ability to communicate with his colleagues. But on the other hand, Harry knew how quickly he could master a language when he was surrounded by it and was forced to communicate in it all day long. That’s what had happened with Bilbo and learning Westron, after all.

“All right, but please be patient with me. I know very little Sindarin so far.” Harry was pleased to see that Gaeven gave him an affirmative nod and then talked slowly in Sindarin while he pointed out the tasks he wanted Harry to do. Harry learned the Sindarin words for onion and slicing, potatoes and peeling, and dough and kneading that morning. He even had Gaeven write down the Sindarin words in his notebook, while Harry added the English and Westron words himself, just to keep his book up to date.

The other elves in the kitchen got in on it over the next few days, holding up various things from turnips and leeks to knives and baskets, while telling Harry the Sindarin words.

Much to Harry’s frustration, though, Bilbo and Gandalf had also taken to talking in Sindarin during meals after they learned what the elves in the kitchen were doing around Harry.

Bilbo patted Harry’s hand and gave him a bright smile. “It’s the only way to learn a language quickly, lad.”

Harry paid close attention to what they were saying and while the grammar still tripped him up more often than not, he was able to make out words he knew, so occasionally he could follow along in rough lines what they were talking about. More often than not, though, Harry was clueless about what was being said, much to his frustration.

Erestor had also taken to only speaking in Sindarin when he taught Harry, and Harry simply sighed and went along with it, because what else could he do. He was making good progress with expanding his vocabulary, learning many new words every single day, but the Sindarin grammar was a nightmare and took him a lot of effort, especially when using it while actually speaking sentences.

By the time Harry’s lessons were done in the afternoon and he could retreat to his bathhouse, his head was usually pounding and he needed some peace and quiet for a few hours to mentally digest all he was learning.

The bathhouse was coming along very nicely. Harry had added showers near the changing rooms of both the male and female sections. He simply directed water through the ceiling where he made many holes, so people could wash off any grime or dirt before moving to the bathing pools. It felt like walking under a warm, heavy shower of rain.

Harry decided to use the water of the many waterfalls around Rivendell instead of conjuring water with runes, like he did in his tent, since the elves were used to bathing in the river water. He transfigured many stone pipes from the waterfalls into the bathhouse, and he added runes along them to heat the water to the desired temperatures. All baths, big and small, had a continues stream of clean, warm water running into it. And all had overflows that let water pour out of it into drains that ran back to the river, so all baths had a constant supply of clean water coming in. Harry even remembered to add runes to the drains to cool the water down again before it ran back to the river. Too much warm water might upset the local ecosystem, and Harry didn’t want to be responsible for the fish dying off or something.

When all the bathing tubs were installed, and all the plumbing was working, Harry added runes around the building to keep the temperature inside nice and stable while still providing a nice flow of fresh air going into the bathhouse to prevent mould.

Then he turned his attention to decorating the place. Normally, Harry would be happy with the white stone walls and floors and tubs, but taking one look around Rivendell made it clear that elves loved art of any kind and used it in everything they did. Every nook and cranny of Rivendell was decorated in some ways, even if it was just floral patterns in the window lattices or murals on the outside walls.

So Harry decided to put his creative hat on and try for a little magical decorating around the bathhouse. Now, Harry had no talent for art himself, but when he’d been fixing up Grimmauld Place he’d learned a lot of useful charms that dealt with decorating. One of them was the ability to copy and transfer existing photos and drawings onto walls while enlarging them to fit whatever space one wanted to cover.

Harry had brought along plenty of books with photos of magical creatures and of landscapes found around his old world, simply because he wanted to remember those in whatever new world he ended up in. And thus Harry got to work, transforming the white, sterile bathhouse into a truly stunning work of magical art.

The entrance hall was covered entirely in pictures of a jungle with many colourful birds of paradise flying around. The pictures all moved, naturally, and combined with the heat of the warm water it genuinely gave the guests the idea one had just stepped into a tropical jungle.

The changing rooms were decked out in a temperate forest at dusk full of different species of owls. The main bathing facilities were covered in pictures of a magical forest full of magical creatures. Some big, like a herd of unicorns that galloped through the trees and a bunch of hippogriffs that flew across the ceiling. Others were small, like a few curious kneazles that liked to lounge on branches and observe the room, and some bowtruckles that were constantly looking for bugs to eat. There was even a phoenix that liked to glide between the trees. Harry gave both the male and female sides identical walls and even gave the animals in the pictures the ability to move between the different spaces.

Harry decided to give the individual bathing rooms on the first floor each a specific theme. One had walls covered in scenes from a beach, another had snowy mountains. There was a desert room with many types of cacti, and a room covered in flowery meadows that swayed in the wind. Yet another one was a pine forest entirely covered in snow, which gave the room a very cosy feeling. Harry then convinced Erestor to write down the Sindarin words for things like ‘Sea Room’ and ‘Mountain Room’, which Harry then carefully inscribed in circles of wood, with the Westron words below them, which he attached to each door.

Finally, Harry got an idea that would add the finishing touches to the whole thing. One afternoon he strolled along the valley to a place where he could reach the riverbed and he collected a whole pile of differently coloured rocks. Some almost black, some a granite grey and some with shades of yellow or brown. He then transfigured all those rocks into large planters that he placed around the entire bathhouse. Neville had taught him plenty of runes to use on planters, so Harry added some for self-watering and repelling pests and for quick-growth. The opaque windows let in plenty of light for plants to grow.

Now he needed plants, and this stopped Harry in his tracks because he had no clue which outside plants would do well indoors.

Thankfully, he knew a hobbit who was pretty well educated on such things.

“Please, Bilbo, speak Westron for now because I need your help,” Harry said one afternoon when he tracked the hobbit down to one of the kitchen gardens where he was harvesting strawberries.

“What do you need?” Bilbo asked, giving Harry a curious look.

Harry got a sly little smile on his face. “Come along and I’ll show you.”

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open as he walked inside the bathhouse. He’d only seen it in its early stages, when Harry had only transfigured some empty bathing tubs. Now it was just about done, with hot water running everywhere.

“This is the most magical thing I have ever seen,” Bilbo said, covering his mouth with both hands. His eyes even started shimmering with unshed tears as he slowly stepped into the main bathing room with its swimming pool-sized tub and its smaller round baths along the far wall. “Oh!” Bilbo spotted the unicorns. “Oh look!” Now a curious niffler poked its head out from behind a tree. “Are these all creatures from your world?”

Harry nodded, feeling oddly shy to have someone admire his work like that.

“You’ve done such an outstanding job,” Bilbo said, clearing his throat a few times. “What on earth do you need my help for?”

Harry pointed at an empty planter. “I want to add real plants but I have no idea which plants will do well in here and where to find them.”

Bilbo drew himself up to his full three feet. “Oh lad. You have come to the right hobbit!”

Bilbo commandeered a wheelbarrow that he made Harry push and over the next two days he and Harry could be seen scuttering around Rivendell, hauling loads of compost inside the bathhouse, much to everyone’s confusion. Why would anyone need dirt to bathe? Then empty spots in the many gardens started appearing, much to the surprise of the gardeners. Plots of flowers disappeared, as did several small bushes and many types of vines. For reasons that no one understood, Harry and Bilbo were making off with them.

Harry had noticed that while elves seemed to love nature, they didn’t keep plants indoors at all. Harry was about to blow their minds. He hoped.

But before Harry officially opened the bathhouse, he tracked down Narthrien, the washer he’d briefly met.

“Hi,” Harry said when he saw her and some other elves toiling over big wooden washing buckets, rubbing towels over metal washing boards by hand. “I want to show you the new washing facilities and ask for your help.”

“Yes,” Narthrien said at once, and then quickly explained why Harry was there to the other elves. All five of them immediately dropped their work and followed Harry to the bathhouse. Along one side Harry had sectioned off part of the building and turned it into state of the art magical laundry facilities. Harry had learned during his stay in Rivendell that residents were expected to wash their own clothes. Most did so once a week or every other week or so, using the wooden washing tubs and boards with cold water. Just vigorously scrubbing your clothing got it clean that way. Hard work, but it was what people were used to. The washers took care of more general things like towels and sheets, and also clothing from the higher up elves like Elrond and his immediate kin, and their honoured guests.

Harry showed the washers through the door into the main washing room. He’d transfigured five large wooden tubs that held wooden paddles to move the laundry around. Each tub had two pipes emptying into it that could be controlled with two simple levers, one for hot water and one for cold.

“Here. This is how it works.” Harry pulled the lever and hot water started flowing. A second lever started and stopped the paddles in the tub. And another lever opened up the drain in the bottom of the tub.

The washers started talking excitedly in Sindarin and practically danced around in their enthusiasm.

Harry had decorated the walls with pictures of a lake with mountains in the background and this drew many admiring comment as well, even if Harry couldn’t understand most of them, he still got the gist of it.

Next was the drying room, which had a seascape on its walls. Harry had installed many drying racks that could fold and unfold as needed, all the way up to the ceiling. The room was pleasantly warm and had a continuous breeze running through it, which would ensure that the laundry would dry in no time at all.

“Good, good, good,” Narthrien kept saying in her broken Westron. “So very, very good.”

“Annon allen!” the other elves said over and over again, which Harry knew meant ‘I give thanks to you!’.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied in Westron while waving their gratitude away. After he demonstrated all there was to the laundry facilities, he turned to Narthrien. “I need your help explaining to female elves how the bathing facilities work.”

Narthrien nodded and translated it in Sindarin to the other two female elves in their company. They immediately offered to learn as well so they could share their knowledge with all the other females in Rivendell. Harry was more than glad, because he hadn’t known how else to teach the ladies without encroaching on their territory.

Once Harry led the three female elves inside the bathhouse, they were shocked silent by what they saw and Harry had to give them at least ten minutes to collect themselves before he could explain anything to them. The systems were all simple to understand, so even with the language barrier between them Harry managed to explain how the magical lights worked, and how to add bath foam and how to activate the jacuzzi in the round tubs.

“We use now?” Narthrien asked, blinking large, expectant eyes at Harry.

Chuckling, Harry nodded quicky. “Sure, go ahead. The grand opening is tomorrow, though.” Then he left them to it and went to inspect the rest of the building to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. The bells for the final meal rang not too much later and Harry joined Bilbo and Gandalf for the meal, listening to their Sindarin conversations. It concerned dwarves and a visit, but that was all Harry could make out.

After their meal, Harry sidled up to Gaeven and Raithon and gave them a conspiratorial smile. “Tomorrow the bathhouse opens, but tonight I can give you a private tour.”

“You need say no more.” Gaeven stood at once from the table, Raithon not far behind. One table over, Harry saw Elrohir sit up and give him an expectant look.

Harry beckoned the twins to join them. “Bring wine,” he mouthed at them before going back to Bilbo.

Gandalf declined to join them, saying he meant to speak with Elrond that evening, but Bilbo was ready for another tour. Honestly, Bilbo wouldn’t miss a tour of anything, even if a gaggle of orcs had gnawed off both his arms and his legs, Harry was sure.

They all gathered in front of the bathhouse, Elladan carrying three bottles of wine and Elrohir six cups.

“Prepare yourself, lads,” Bilbo said solemnly while Harry opened the door. “You have never in your life seen anything like this.”

The twins reacted by speaking in rapid Sindarin for minutes at a time while Gaeven seemed struck silent as he stood in one spot, slowly turning around to take the main room in.

“How?” Raithon kept saying as he walked past the walls, trying to find as many animals as he could. “How?”

Bilbo stood beside Harry with his chest puffed out, beaming. “I told Harry which plants to add! Look how well they blend in with the decorations.”

“There’s more upstairs,” Harry said after ten minutes, which resulted in a mad dash up the stone staircase in the entrance hall. Every single room was admired. Each had a simple shower and a stone tub that would comfortably fit two to three people. Four or five if one didn’t mind squeezing in a bit.

“This is the most amazing thing that has come to Rivendell in a long time,” Elladan said as he admired the snowy forest on the walls of the final room.

“Let’s put it to the test!” Elrohir released an excited yell and all but bounced downstairs again, already undressed by the time the rest joined him in the changing rooms. Uncaring about his nudity, Elrohir dove under the shower and stood there with his eyes closed, just letting the warm water washing over him. His brother was not far behind.

“The big pool is too deep for me,” Bilbo said with a worried frown as he glanced up at Harry. “I am not a strong swimmer.”

“The smaller pools have steps you can sit on and still be in the water,” Harry told him while he started undressing himself.

“Well then, let’s put your creation to good use.” And with that, Bilbo pulled off his vest.

They all rinsed themselves off under the shower and then moved to one of the round tubs. Those were big enough that they could easily seat ten to fifteen people, so six wasn’t a problem. Once everyone found a spot and Elladan had poured them all a glass of wine, Harry demonstrated the features.

“These buttons add soap to the water,” Harry said, gesturing at some stones with runes inscribed. “Pine, lemon or rose?” Harry had kept the scents simple, which made them easier to transfigure, as Harry used plain water to turn into bath foam.

“Pine,” Gaeven said at once and the others nodded their consent.

“This one makes the water bubble,” Harry said next with a huge grin and pressed it. At once the water started swirling like a jacuzzi and everyone released excited noises as the scent of pine rose up around them.

“You, wizard, have outdone yourself,” Elladan said, gesturing at Harry with his cup of wine. “I shall spend many hours in here.”

“We all will,” Raithon agreed at once. “I imagine the hall of fire shall be empty from now on and all shall spend their evenings in here.”

They all sat in silence for a moment, sipping wine and enjoying the warm, bubbling water around them.

“Do you have anything like this in the Shire?” Raithon asked after a while, giving Bilbo a curious look.

“If only we did!” Bilbo laughed and shook his head. “It is custom in the shire to bathe in a tub once a week. The wife will heat many buckets of water over the fire while the husband hauls the tub out of storage. It’s quite the event.”

Elladan narrowed his eyes as he frowned a little. “Are you married, Bilbo?”

“Oh no. No, no,” Bilbo said at once with a vigorous shake of his head. “I am not made for the hobbit lasses, I’m afraid.”

That took Harry by surprise, because that was the first real reference he’d heard in Middle-Earth about someone not being attracted to the opposite sex. He quickly took a sip of wine to mask his response, but Gaeven had noticed anyway and gave him a small, knowing smile.

“I’m a bachelor now and more than content with that.” Bilbo’s face scrunched up in a way that made it clear there was some real pain hidden underneath those words, so everyone decided to let him be for a moment.

“How about you, Harry?” Gaeven asked. “Were you married in your old world?”

“No,” Harry said with a bit of a melancholic expression on his face. “I had a girlfriend once. Her name was Ginny, and I might have married her but then I realized I wasn’t aging and I broke it off. I didn’t want to do that to her. So I remained a bachelor.” Harry gave Bilbo a pointed wink, which Bilbo seemed to appreciate.

“I always forget that humans can break such things off so easily,” Elrohir mused while leaning back and stretching out his legs.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, not at all clear on anything to do with elves and personal relationships.

“Ah, you don’t know yet,” Elladan said with a chuckle. “Elves are different than humans when it comes to relationships.”

“We only ever marry once,” Elrohir added. “And we will know when we meet the one meant for us.”

“Oh yes,” Gaeven mused, a faraway look on his face. “I remember the day I met Naniel. It has been thousands of years, but I still recall that feeling like it happened just now.”

“Like the world stopped spinning for a moment,” Raithon whispered with a knowing smile on his face. “Like all sound disappeared, and the whole world became hazy except for that one person in front of you.”

“Wait,” Harry said in complete surprise. “You’re both married? I haven’t seen you with any elven ladies.”

“My wife Linnadis and Naniel are both with Arwen in Lothlórien,” Raithon said with a shrug.

“Our sister is visiting our grandparents, who rule there,” Elladan explained when he saw Harry’s confused expression.

“Ah.” Harry nodded in understanding, though he was still unclear about the only ever marrying once thing. “How about you two?”

“We’re not married,” Elrohir easily said, not looking at all upset by this.

“We haven’t yet found our matches,” Elladan added, looking equally as accepting of this.

“So you just… stay single for thousands of years?” Harry asked, feeling more than a little confused. “I mean, I was a bachelor and I never entered a serious relationship with anyone, but I still…you know…dallied with others.” Harry wasn’t sure how to talk about sex in Westron since it had never come up before.

Elladan threw his head back and laughed. “We will… dally as well if the mood strikes with other unattached elves, but it is never serious.”

“Like scratching an itch,” Elrohir agreed. “It means very little.”

“Okay.” Harry couldn’t help but be curious about all the elves he now knew. Elrond had to be married since he had three kids, but Harry had never seen his wife. Perhaps she’d passed away, or perhaps she was also in Lothlórien with her daughter Arwen. Harry decided to let that mystery remain for a moment, not wanting to upset the twins in case something bad had happened to their mother.

Then he considered other elves he knew. Was Erestor married? Was Glorfindel?

Gaeven was staring at Harry again as though he could read his every thought. “Ask us. We can always tell when another elf is married, but we know it is difficult for humans to tell.”

Clearing his throat, Harry nodded. “So is Erestor married?”

“Yes,” Elrohir said, his face taking on a much more serious expression. “His husband, Calardir, sailed West with our mother. They were very dear friends and both got injured in an orc attack. They went home to Valinor to find healing.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” Harry muttered, feeling oddly ignorant and not liking it one bit. He was glad to hear, though, that elves did marry other elves of the same sex, since Harry considered himself bisexual. Now he still had to figure out if elves ever hooked up with humans. Harry wasn’t in a hurry, but he wouldn’t mind getting intimate with an elf sometime in the future. He wasn’t made of stone, after all. He had needs like any other man.

“Valinor is a land to the West where the elves live and where all of us will eventually sail to,” Gaeven explained patiently.

“Keep learning Sindarin and I’ll give you some books that will explain all these details,” Raithon said, toasting Harry with his cup of wine.

Harry returned the gesture with a grin. “Will do. How about Glorfindel? I never see him with anyone special.”

Elladan got a funny sort of look on his face which he quickly hid with his cup of wine. “No, he’s not married.”

“Can you imagine,” Raithon sighed with a disbelieving glint in his eyes. “Being so old that you were born in the light of the two trees before the first age and yet you have not met your match even all this time later.”

“Hm.” Elrohir nodded thoughtfully, though his face was also doing a few strange things.

For some reason, knowing that Glorfindel wasn’t married seemed to satisfy Harry on some very deep level, though he honestly had no clue why. Maybe it was because Harry thought that a big old bully like him deserved to be alone. Yeah, that must be it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Elrond never thought he’d ever see an elf as ancient as Glorfindel mope, yet that was the only word he could give to Glorfindel’s behaviour of late.

Glorfindel was draped across the futon in the corner of Elrond’s living room in a way that reminded Elrond of his sons when they were growing up and reached that age where they were convinced the whole world was out to get them because someone had asked them for help with a menial task.

Elladan and Elrohir both had an interesting theory for Glorfindel’s recent peculiar behaviour.

“Ada,” Elladan said after they returned from their trip to track down a small party of orcs and brought home an additional hobbit and human. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see his face when he first saw the wizard.”

“The wizard is his match,” Elrohir said, his face a picture of sincerity. “We’re sure of it.”

Elrond had thought for a moment that his boys were making a tasteless joke on Glorfindel’s behalf, but when Glorfindel had started acting in many odd ways even Elrond had to admit something was going on with his friend. Though perhaps not having found his match in a second born. That seemed farfetched, even to Elrond, who himself was descendent of two unions between elf and human. Yet Elrond also knew how rare such unions were. They hardly ever occurred and the number of unions between elf and man that were public knowledge could be counted on one hand.

It simply seemed impossible that an ancient elf like Glorfindel would finally find his match in a human who wasn’t even originally from their world.

And then Elrond heard whispers that Glorfindel had spent quite a few hours in the library, reading up on Aegnor, of all elves. Aegnor was one of three older brothers of Galadriel, and a distant cousin of Elrond, who lived and ruled in the first age. Aegnor found his match in a mortal woman named Andreth, and he famously rejected her and was killed in battle not that long after.

Aegnor’s oldest brother Finrod had spoken about this with Andreth at length, about how difficult relationships between the first and second born were, for all manner of reasons. He’d penned down this conversation and it survived all those millennia as a book in Elrond’s library.

And Glorfindel, who had already read every single book in the library more than once, had been seen reading it from front to back, twice, after Harry came to Rivendell.

Yes, now even Elrond was getting a bit suspicious and more than a little worried for his friend. Glorfindel had been very quiet since his return while he usually enjoyed partaking in whatever conversation that was going on around him. Glorfindel, for all the horrors he’d witnessed in his very long life, was one of those people who was great at compartmentalizing his mind and he always found joy in life whenever there was any of it to find.

But now he was moping. On Elrond’s futon, while sipping his third cup of wine.

Mithrandir was the only other guest in Elrond’s quarters and he stood puffing on his pipe near an opened window. Mithrandir glanced at Elrond and they shared a knowing look. Yes, the old wizard had noticed Glorfindel and his peculiar behaviour as well, that much was obvious.

Elrond usually tried to be subtle in his approach to others, but Glorfindel looked so faraway in his thoughts that Elrond feared any vague remarks would fly right over his head.

“Is it truly so bad,” Elrond finally said, leaning back in his own leather chair while giving Glorfindel a measured look. “To find yourself matched with a second born, an immortal one at that?”

Those words startled Glorfindel to such an extend that he spilled wine over himself as he suddenly sat up to glare at Elrond. “I would prefer to not speak of such things at all,” Glorfindel snapped, wiping at his tunic with a frustrated frown on his face.

“And I would prefer to see my dearest friend smiling and singing again,” Elrond replied in a patient voice while giving Glorfindel a challenging look. “Which I suspect will only come to pass once he comes to terms with his match.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes, leaned back in the futon again and released a sigh so long and deep it seemed to rise up from the depths of Moria.

“He seems like a fine fellow,” Elrond pointed out, because he had been observing Harry Potter from a distance for weeks now. He’d also talked to others about him at length. At first Elrond had been wary of him, for good reason, but before long he’d seen with his own eyes that the human wizard had a kind soul and that he possessed no thirst for power of any kind. “Brave, clever, happy to make friends with those of all standings in life, and compassionate about others.” Shaking his head, Elrond couldn’t help but add, “And willing to put up with your shenanigans for quite a long time before finally confronting you in a reasonable manner.”

“And he is immortal, after a fashion,” Mithrandir added quietly before pulling heavily on his pipe, a cloud of smoke briefly shrouding his face. “From what I have seen of his previous life, he truly does not age nor will he die a natural death.”

Nodding, Glorfindel kept his eyes closed, his face transforming into a mask of grief. “Even if that is all true,” he whispered, voice full of obvious pain. “Even if he will live as long as I will, what of Valinor?”

Elrond blinked and shared a surprised look with Mithrandir. He truly hadn’t considered that and he should have.

“Would I be expected to remain here with my match while every other member of my kin sails West?” Glorfindel said, his voice cracking. “Live here as a lone eldar with my human match until I fade away? What would happen to him then?”

“We don’t yet know how long we will remain here in Middle-Earth,” Mithrandir pointed out in a reasonable tone. “We might yet fight Sauron for many thousands of years more to come.”

Elrond shuddered at the thought. They had been fighting for so long he was well and truly sick of it. But Mithrandir made a good point. “Besides,” Elrond said with a small smile. “Who knows? Your match might be welcome in Valinor after all.”

“A second born?” Glorfindel sputtered at the very thought.

“It’s happened before,” Elrond pointed out. They all knew he was talking about some of his own ancestors. Idril Celebrindal was an elven princess who lived during the first age and who married the human Tuor. They had a son together, Eärendil, who was Elrond’s father. Eventually Idril and Tuor sailed West together, which was unheard of since humans weren’t allowed in Valinor. Yet it seemed that Tuor, who was a brave man and a great warrior who fought valiantly against Morgoth’s forces, was allowed to stay in the realm of the Valar until his natural death and his passing from this world. For even the Valar wouldn’t change the fate of a person’s fëa, their very soul, without very good reason.

But Harry was already immortal. If he could make it to Valinor there was a good chance he’d live a life as long as the eldar once there.

Glorfindel shook his head. “One human, Elrond. One single human who performed great feats was allowed entry in all the ages. And I don’t think constructing a magical bathhouse will count as a great feat in the eyes of the Valar.”

“Why are you deciding on what the future will bring when it hasn’t even yet come to pass?” Mithrandir asked, raising his bushy eyebrows as he stared at Glorfindel. “None of us know what will happen so perhaps it would be best to accept the things you can control instead of putting all your attention on the things you cannot.”

“I do not want this kind of heartbreak,” Glorfindel mumbled, lips trembling.

“What heartbreak?” Mithrandir snapped, eyes glittering. “The only heartbreak that is occurring is the one you are giving to yourself.”

Elrond briefly closed his eyes as memories of times long gone by surfaced. “Right now, you remind me of Maedhros and Maglor,” Elrond said, fully aware what sort of explosive statement he had just made.

Glorfindel sat up at once, a look of complete shock on his face, though why exactly was hard to say. Shock at Elrond mentioning those sons of Fëanor who had raised him and his brother Elros, which he never did, not with anyone. He’d barely ever even mentioned them around his wife. Or shock at being compared to two of the most notorious elves in the history of the eldar.

Even Mithrandir gave Elrond a look full of surprise for mentioning those kinslayers.

Holding up a hand, Elrond gestured at Glorfindel to hear him out. “Maedhros and Maglor rejected everything that could have brought them love and joy once I knew them. The oath they’d taken to retrieve the silmarils Morgoth had stolen from their father consumed them to such an extend that I truly believe they were incapable of feeling joy and love in the end.”

Glorfindel’s offended glare turned into a expression full of concern at Elrond’s well-being at hearing that.

Shaking his head, Elrond managed a small smile. “They did their best with me and Elros and they raised us as well as they could, considering that they were technically our captors after they’d slaughtered our kin.” These were all old, confusing memories, though to be honest, Elrond still felt mostly confused about his feelings for Maedhros and Maglor even to that day. They’d killed more elves than any other of the eldar in their quest for the silmarils, yet Elrond wouldn’t be the elf he was today without Maedhros’ personal training in sword fighting and Maglor’s instructions in healing and music.

“I’ve seen Maedhros on the battlefield, mowing down whole regiments of orcs,” Elrond said, his mind full of old feelings of admiration and fear and abandonment. “He was perhaps the most powerful warrior the eldar have ever seen, save for his uncle Fingolfin.”

Fingolfin was a legend even amongst the bravest and strongest of the eldar. His riding to the gates of Angband where he challenged Morgoth to single combat was a feat so brave and so daring that it had yet to be repeated by any elf in any age. Elrond could hardly believe most days he was actually related to that specific elf.

“As incredible a warrior as Maedhros was, his eyes were empty, his fëa broken beyond repair. Because he made those horrible choices and fully rejected the path that Eru Ilúvatar had set for him.” Elrond gave his old friend a pleading look. “I do not want you to go down the same path, becoming bitter and jaded because you thought you could reject Eru’s personal gift to you without consequences.”

“Not to mention you’d be a fool if you truly thought your heartbreak at rejecting your match would be any less than that of potentially losing your husband in the future.” Mithrandir puffed on his pipe in a way that clearly showed his irritation, small clouds of smoke erupting around him.

“The time I got to spend with Celebrían was worth the pain I felt at our parting,” Elrond said with a nod of agreement, meaning every word.

“You’ll see her again,” Glorfindel muttered, not meeting their eyes.

“I don’t know when,” Elrond said honestly. As of yet he had no idea when he would be sailing West. It might be in a hundred years, or it might be in a thousand. Or more. He leaned forward in his seat again to give Glorfindel a most intense stare, one that brooked no argument. “The love I got to share and the time I got to spend with my brother, my twin, was worth the pain I felt when he chose a mortal life and passed from this world entirely. And I shall never see him again, Glorfindel, because his fëa is beyond our reach forever.”

That seemed to snap Glorfindel out of it and he gave Elrond an almost apologetic smile. Then he heaved an enormous sigh and leaned his head back against the futon. “I just can’t believe this.”

“What?” Elrond asked, glad to see some of his old friend’s usual personality return, albeit slowly. “That you matched with a human wizard of all things?”

Glorfindel snorted, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Yes. I had always imagined that once I returned to Valinor I would finally meet my match. Some fair maiden or handsome warrior just returned from the Halls of Mandos, as a reward for a life spent fighting the enemy and serving others.” Glorfindel gave Elrond a downright hopeless look. “But instead I get this…this…impossible human with his strange magics and his obsession with hot water.”

Elrond couldn’t help himself and laughed outright at Glorfindel’s affronted tone.

Even Mithrandir looked more amused than Elrond had seen him of late. “And yet you two are so very well matched,” the old wizard pointed out with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Harry willingly sacrificed his life to save his people.” Mithrandir pretended to think very deeply for a second. “That does remind me of someone else I know. If only I could recall his name.”

“Yes, yes,” Glorfindel muttered, waving Mithrandir’s comments away. “He’s a brave warrior in his own right. I’m not disputing that.” Then he glared at Elrond, though there was no real heat behind it. “I cannot believe you actually compared me to a couple of Fëanorians.”

Elrond shrugged, utterly without shame or guilt. “It worked, didn’t it? It snapped you out of whatever ill mood has come over you of late.”

“I just don’t know how to approach this whole situation,” Glorfindel said in a moment of pure honesty. “I feel entirely unprepared.”

“Well, not pushing him around might be a good start,” Elrond couldn’t help but mutter. “Perhaps try actually talking to him next instead of stalking him from the shadows?”

“I do not stalk him,” Glorfindel all but growled when he’d been doing exactly that over the past week. Harry himself might be oblivious about Glorfindel’s whereabouts more often than not, but Elrond certainly wasn’t. He’d seen him lurking around the bathhouse plenty of times.

Footsteps down the hall announced the arrival of his sons and moments later the door opened, revealing Elladan and Elrohir, both with wet hair and smelling faintly of pine.

“Ada,” Elrohir said with a short nod in greeting. “You will not believe what Harry has created.”

“I have never seen the likes of it anywhere,” Elladan added as he poured himself and his brother a cup of wine on the side table.

“You might as well close the hall of fire entirely,” Elrohir said with a decisive nod. “Because every single person will be spending their evenings in that bathhouse from now on.”

“Is it truly that impressive?” Mithrandir asked with a curious look. He’d seemed mildly curious about Harry’s powers, but hadn’t pushed the human wizard into performing any tricks for him. Elrond imagined Mithrandir must understand how annoying that would be, if people demanded a magical performance just because you were a wizard.

Elladan looked utterly serious when he said, “It is truly the most magical thing I have ever seen.”

Well, now. Elrond couldn’t help but feel genuinely curious about Harry’s creation, but he would be patient and wait until its official opening the next day.

Glorfindel was staring into the distance, hardly noticing the twins’ presence. “He does have unique eyes, doesn’t he?” he said to no one in particular. Elrond privately agreed with that. The eldar as a rule had eyes that were different shades of blue and grey, and very rarely brown. But he’d yet to see eyes that colour of green on any elf.

“I knew it.” Elrohir pointed an accusatory finger at Glorfindel while Elladan all but jumped in the air.

“See, Ada, we were right.” Elladan crowed in victory while Glorfindel looked at them in surprise, as though he genuinely hadn’t realized they were even in the room. Elrond’s sons threw themselves onto the futon on either side of Glorfindel and gave him huge grins. “You’ll be happy to hear that Harry never married in his previous life. He is entirely unattached,” Elladan said with obvious glee.

“And he seemed interested in the private lives of elves,” Elrohir added with a smirk. “So go get him, Captain.”

Rolling his eyes, Glorfindel gave the twins a look that promised many, many hours of hard work the next time he had them in the training yard. Not that the twins would mind, Elrond knew. They loved sparring with their teacher.

“Just promise me,” Glorfindel said softly and slowly as he looked from one twin to the other. “That you won’t interfere.”

“We would never,” Elladan said, placing a hand over his heart.

“We promise,” Elrohir added with a glint in his eyes that clearly showed they’d been thinking of doing exactly that.

Elrond shook his head and felt a burst of pity for poor Harry. That wizard had no idea what was coming his way.

0000000000

After leaving Elrond’s quarters, Glorfindel found his feet taking him outside instead of to his own chambers. He felt enormously relieved now that he’d made a decision, thanks to Elrond and Mithrandir’s intervention.

He was going to pursue Harry the human wizard and convince him to marry eventually. Though to be honest, Glorfindel truly had no idea how to go about such a thing. Elves, he understood. Human wizards from other worlds were a complete mystery to him, as it turned out.

But Elladan and Elrohir’s description of the bathhouse had made Glorfindel incredibly curious about Harry’s creation and since his mind was still fully awake he decided he might as well take a look now and satisfy his curiosity without most of Imladris getting in the way.

The bathhouse seemed deserted, with a few faint lights burning around the building, and the doors were unlocked.

Glorfindel stepped into a jungle. The walls and ceilings were covered with trees and so many different, colourful birds such as Glorfindel had never seen before, not even growing up in Valinor. Glorfindel reached out a hand and felt a wall. These were paintings so lifelike they might as well be real.

There were two doors on either side of the staircase, both clearly marked for males or for females. Glorfindel pushed open the door and entered yet another magical space. There was a dressing room to his right full of different trees and many owls, and beyond that Glorfindel found a spot with hot rain pouring out of the ceiling. And then his jaw dropped open when he saw the largest bathing pool he’d ever seen, full of steaming hot water. Here, too the walls were covered in images of lifelike trees, with many strange creatures.

A strangled sound of surprise had Glorfindel almost jump a foot into the air.

Harry stood behind him, eyes wide, his magical wand in his hand. “What are you doing here? You scared the crap out of me.”

Glorfindel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, calming down his racing heart. “I could ask the same for you. I thought the building was empty.”

Quirking a single eyebrow, Harry gave Glorfindel a look as though he’d lost his mind entirely. “I was here cleaning up, since we just used it and I wanted to make sure it looked its best for tomorrow. Since I made it.” Harry crossed his arms in an entirely defiant way. “Would you like a detailed list of all the magic I used? Is that why you’re here?”

Glorfindel couldn’t help but smile at his match’s fearless determination to use Glorfindel’s own words against him. “That’s not necessary. Though I wouldn’t object to a personal tour of your wonderful creation.”

Blinking, Harry gave Glorfindel a searching look, though there was definitely something wary in his eyes. Had Glorfindel already pushed Harry away too far that any reconciliation was impossible? “All right,” Harry said eventually and then waved around the room and started telling Glorfindel about its many amazing features.

Glorfindel grew up in Valinor where he’d seen many wonderous creations of the Valar and of some of the most talented elves that had ever lived. And yet Harry’s creation of his magical bathhouse could easily match any of those works, at least in Glorfindel’s mind. Harry talked and Glorfindel listened and observed his match now that he wasn’t glaring at him but seemed happy and relaxed while showing off his hard work. Harry was handsome in his own right, certainly by human standards. His wild, black hair seemed to match his endless energy perfectly, not to mention his slightly chaotic personality. Glorfindel was sure that Harry was very much the kind of person who preferred to simply do something instead of considering endless possibilities. Which suited Glorfindel just fine, because he was the exact same way.

“There’s more private rooms upstairs,” Harry said and Glorfindel trailed after him up the staircase and into the first of many unique bathing rooms. It wasn’t until they opened the door to a landscape of high, snow-topped mountains that Glorfindel felt a sudden lump in his throat. He stepped into that room as though walking into a dream and gently trailed his hand across the walls while his thoughts became memories thousands of years old.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked in a quiet voice as he lingered in the doorway, giving Glorfindel a concerned look.

Glorfindel turned towards his match and gave him a bright smile, though his eyes must be shimmering. “In the first age, my home for many years was Gondolin. A hidden city surrounded by mountains just like this.” Glorfindel briefly glanced down before his gaze was drawn back to the lifelike mountains around him. “It’s where I died.”

Harry made a tight noise of disbelief while he stared at Glorfindel with wide eyes.

“You are not the only one who sacrificed their life and eventually came back,” Glorfindel said with a knowing little smile, pleased to see that Harry was clearly looking at him in a whole new light. “This room is my favourite. I shall put it to good use tomorrow.”

Shrugging his shoulders while he briefly looked away, Harry said, “You could use it now, if you wanted.”

“You truly wouldn’t mind?” Glorfindel asked, pleasantly surprised by his match’s sudden generosity. He was well aware he’d done nothing to deserve it.

“As long as you don’t make a mess,” Harry mumbled with another shrug. Then his gaze hardened a little while he gave Glorfindel a bit of a suspicious look. “Or is this another of your plots to make sure I’m not Sauron in disguise or something? Because if you’re going to do something that wrecks my bathhouse, we’re going to be having some strong words tomorrow.”

Glorfindel held up both hands in surrender at once, though his tone was unapologetic. “If you expect me to apologize for treating you with suspicion at first until I could be sure you weren’t a threat to the people I am sworn to protect, you are going to be waiting for a long time, Harry.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said after a moment of thoughtful silence. “I get that. I was in charge of people’s safety back home as well for a few decades.”

“Good.” Glorfindel stared at his match with genuine fondness. Now that he’d made his decision and accepted his path forward, he could see how well matched they really were. “Though perhaps, now that you’re truly welcome here, we could start over.” Glorfindel gave his match a short bow, his long hair sliding over his shoulders. “I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, and I am pleased to meet you, Harry Potter.”

For reasons Glorfindel couldn’t quite imagine, Harry’s cheeks coloured a rosy red but he returned the gesture and bowed briefly. “I’m Harry James Potter, and I have no fancy titles but I am pleased to meet you, too.” They stared at each other for a few moments while some tension grew between them, but it wasn’t anything unpleasant. Then Harry stepped backwards out of the room, glancing at his own shoes again. “Enjoy your bath. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that he closed the door.

Well now. There was hope for them yet, Glorfindel was sure.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

The next morning, as soon as breakfast was done, a procession of elves made its way to the brand-new bathhouse, with Harry and Bilbo leading the way, followed closely by Elrond, Gandalf, Glorfindel, Erestor and the twins. Pretty much every other elf in Rivendell trailed after them, leaving their work for what it was for a bit.

“Lord Elrond,” Harry said with a little bow as they arrived in front of the bathhouse. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to create this bathhouse for the whole of Rivendell. I hope you will all enjoy it a lot.”

“Thank you,” Elrond said and opened the doors when Harry gestured at him to do so. Elrond, who was usually quite a composed elf, inhaled a sharp breath while his eyes widened as he stepped into the jungle-themed entrance way. “This is truly astonishing.”

“Isn’t it?” Bilbo agreed before glancing up at Gandalf with a sly smile. “It’s certainly a bigger feat than setting pinecones ablaze.”

Gandalf shook his head before giving Bilbo a fond smile. “Perhaps, perhaps. But is it more useful at repelling orcs, I wonder?”

Elrond had entered the main bathing hall and was standing in the middle of it, taking in everything while he slowly turned on the spot. “I do believe I have underestimated your magical talents, Mr Potter.”

“It’s Harry.” Shrugging, Harry stepped up to him. “And all the magic I did here is pretty standard stuff in my world.”

“Truly?” Gandalf asked as he inspected the walls with their photographic woods and creatures. “Even painting walls in such a realistic fashion?”

“Ah, no.” Harry shook his head before smiling at the others. “I did not paint that. I copied it from a book and enlarged it onto the walls using magic.”

“Still quite impressive,” Elrond said. More and more elves were trickling in after them, exclaiming in wonder at what they were seeing. Glorfindel stood to the side, keeping a quiet eye on Harry, though his relaxed expression indicated there was no suspicion or malice behind his behaviour anymore.

That puzzled Harry a bit, how Glorfindel had done a complete turnabout in his attitude to Harry, starting last night when he’d snuck into the bathhouse when Harry was cleaning up. Harry understood that Glorfindel had wanted to make sure Harry wasn’t a threat to the people of Rivendell and had therefore pushed Harry around a bit, putting him to the test. But that still didn’t explain Glorfindel’s sudden personality transplant. Whenever Harry glanced at him, Glorfindel would offer him a warm smile, his expression open and welcoming. It was very different from all the frowns and glares Harry had received over the past few weeks.

Harry was more than happy to forgive Glorfindel for his previous bullying, even if it was just to keep the peace in Rivendell. But he truly wasn’t sure what to make of this friendly elf who seemed determined to get Harry to like him all of a sudden. So Harry avoided him a bit, didn’t really talk to him while he showed everyone around, though he couldn’t help glancing at Glorfindel from time to time. Somehow the elf always drew Harry’s gaze, though he wasn’t sure why.

“I’m sure the gardeners will be happy to learn that their missing plants have found new homes,” Elrond said in obvious amusement as he noticed all the planters. “I don’t think any of us would have thought to place plants indoors, but it certainly makes for a pleasant picture combined with these magical walls.”

Bilbo beamed up at Harry. “It seems our hard work was worth it.”

“I think I shall put this room to use,” Elrond said when Harry showed him the desert room upstairs, with its many cacti in the foreground and red, rocky mountains in the distance. Numerous tiny hummingbirds flew across the walls in search of nectar while various species of lizards and snakes sunned themselves on the many rocks. “It is such a unique scenery that I am sure merely observing these walls will keep me entertained for a long time.”

Harry looked at Elrond in surprise. “You don’t have such dry landscapes here?” He wasn’t sure what the Westron word for desert was, so he made do.

“Very, very far to the south,” Gandalf said from the doorway. Then he frowned and seemed lost in thought for a moment. “And very far to the east as well, if I recall correctly.”

“It was the same in my world,” Harry said with an agreeable smile. “These plants can only be found in very dry and hot regions. Though people also kept small ones in their homes, called house plants.”

“Curious,” Gandalf mumbled, though he didn’t sound disapproving. Just interested to learn such small facts about a different world.

They left Elrond to enjoy the private bath, and Gandalf opted to use the meadow room, with its swaying fields of flowers, so they left him as well.

“Erestor,” Glorfindel said and gestured at the door to the mountain room. “You should try this room. I used it last night and it brought back many precious memories.”

Erestor took a few hesitant steps towards the door, opened it carefully and then peered inside around the doorsill. “Oh.” The emotion was clear in his voice as he gazed upon the mountain scene. It seemed that Erestor had also once lived in Gondolin, the hidden city between the high, snowy mountains.

Harry vowed there and then that now that the bathhouse was ready he was going to use his extra time to learn Sindarin as quickly as he could, because he had so many questions about the history of the elves and the people of Rivendell. He was sure there were plenty of books in the library which would give him the answers he was looking for.

“It was without a doubt the most comfortable bath I have ever had,” Glorfindel said as he fell into step with Harry now that everyone else was making use of the private baths. “I especially enjoyed the water bubbling.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Harry said, giving Glorfindel a bit of an uncertain glance, wondering if the elf had actually fallen off Asfaloth and hit his head or something. As it turned out, Glorfindel being charming and giving you his undivided attention was a force to be reckoned with, and Harry really wasn’t sure what to do with this sudden interest Glorfindel was showing him. “I’m going to make sure everyone is comfortable downstairs.”

Many elves were using the main baths downstairs and Elladan and Elrohir had taken it upon themselves to show everyone how things worked. Harry received words of gratitude from all directions, which he answered with quick nods and short bows. Just as he was wondering what else he could create with his magic that would make the lives of the people of Rivendell just a bit more comfortable, Gaeven unwittingly gave Harry the perfect idea.

“Harry.” Gaeven looked over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t overheard, and then spoke in quick Westron. “Could you also install hot water taps in the kitchens?”

“Of course!” Harry grinned at Gaeven and then looked around for Glorfindel, to tell him he was starting a new magical project, but for once the elf wasn’t lurking in the shadows anywhere that Harry could see. Harry shrugged and figured that it wasn’t really a new project anyway with new kinds of magic. It was just installing more hot water around Rivendell. “I’ll start on it this afternoon.”

For the next few hours, Harry remained in the bathhouse, making sure everything went smoothly. Thankfully, there were no issues and everything worked like it should and Harry quickly became everyone’s favourite person for his amazing creation.

During the midday meal, Harry made a real effort to listen to the conversation in Sindarin between Bilbo and Gandalf and he could make out large parts of it. Bilbo was talking about gardening for the most part, and Gandalf asked him questions about his land in the Shire. Harry still didn’t know enough Sindarin to really join the conversation, but he was already very happy he could now follow along with what was being said for the most part.

Installing hot water in the kitchens was quite simple. There already existed a row of large, stone sinks with pipes providing cold water straight from a nearby waterfall. Harry transfigured stone taps out of some rocks he picked up on his walk to the kitchens, connected them to the pipes, added the necessary runes and two simple levers, and now the kitchens had hot water on demand.

Gaeven actually gave Harry a one-armed hug in sheer gratitude. “This will make washing dishes so much quicker, now that we don’t have to heat water in the kettles. It will save a lot of wood as well.”

“Glad to help,” Harry said easily. He was so used to living with hot and cold running water that he’d never really given it much thought what life would be like without such luxury.

Gaeven leaned a little closer to Harry. “Could you install something like that in my room as well? It would be a wonderful surprise for Naniel once she returns from Lothlórien.”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Harry said and then frowned. Perhaps he should run this by Glorfindel first, lest he anger the elf and accidentally turn him into a grumpy bully again. Harry did not want to go back to that. “Tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Gaeven offered him a deep bow, which Harry answered with a solemn nod.

Harry went in search of Glorfindel, to make sure the elf knew about Harry’s next project. But he ran into Bilbo first in one of the kitchen gardens he passed where the hobbit was picking chamomile flowers to use in tea. “Have you seen Glorfindel?”

“I saw him in the training yard not long ago,” Bilbo called back, wiping his hands on his trousers and hauling his full basket of flowers towards one of the elves in charge.

Harry looked back and forth between the various buildings. “I’ve got no idea where that is.”

“I’ll show you,” Bilbo said as he sauntered towards Harry. “I’m done with my work for today anyway.”

“Gaeven asked me to add hot water to his rooms, so I want to inform the big, bad elf of what scary magic I’ll be using,” Harry said, unable to hide his grin.

Bilbo snorted in response. “If he’s smart he’d ask you to add hot water to his room as well.” Bilbo slowed his pace a little and then gave Harry an expectant look. “Any chance you could spoil your oldest friend as well with such a thing?”

“Sure.” Harry shook his head in amusement, now very clear what his next big project was. Installing hot and cold water taps with sinks in every bedroom in Rivendell, probably.

The training yards were a few large, square swatches of sand, bordered by some benches and a small building that seemed to be predominantly used for storage. Glorfindel was indeed there, dressed in light trousers and a simple, blue tunic, swinging his metal sword around in a carefully constructed training routine. A few other elves were sparring with each other using wooden swords.

Harry swallowed as he stared at Glorfindel. He really did make a very striking picture, with his tall stature and his long, golden hair and his strong arms. Glorfindel spotted them and gave Harry a bright smile. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure there was no one standing behind him, Harry was forced to realize that smile actually was meant for him.

Wow.

That was some smile, all warm and cheerful, and it made Glorfindel’s already ridiculously handsome face even more appealing.

Clearing his throat, Harry ignored Bilbo’s snickering and approached the elf, who’d paused his routine.

“Harry,” Glorfindel said before Harry could even open his mouth. “Mithrandir told me you aren’t able to use your magic beyond our borders. I want to train you with the sword so you can still defend yourself out there.”

“What, what?” Bilbo yelped, staring up at Glorfindel in shock. “Harry’s not allowed to use his magic?”

“Outside of Rivendell,” Harry quickly explained, which did nothing to calm Bilbo down. “Otherwise Sauron and his friends might take notice.”

“But…but…” Bilbo looked genuinely upset as he glanced between Glorfindel and Harry. “What about your hunting? And your flying broomstick?” Then Bilbo’s face paled in absolute horror. “What about your tent?” Before anyone else could say a thing, Bilbo shook his head over and over again. “Oh no. This won’t do at all. I shall have a very firm word with Gandalf!” And with that, Bilbo took off, marching towards the main building while muttering under his breath about wizards who should let other wizards use their magic as they saw fit.

“Before I forget,” Harry said, still staring after Bilbo. “I’ve added warm water to the kitchens and I’ll be adding it to people’s bedrooms as well, starting with Gaeven’s, Bilbo’s and my own.” Harry turned to look up at Glorfindel. “You want some, too?”

Glorfindel replied to that with a regal nod. “I most certainly would appreciate that. And thank you for informing me.” Then he swung his sword around a few times with practiced ease, causing Harry to take a cautious step back. “Have you any experience with a blade?”

For a moment Harry considered telling Glorfindel about that time he’d killed a basilisk with a sword but then he thought better of it. That whole incident had been more luck than skill and Harry didn’t like bragging about his accomplishments anyway. “Not really,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve always used magic to fight.”

“I would love to see that someday.” Glorfindel even looked like he meant it. “But it cannot hurt to know more than one way to defend yourself.”

“That’s certainly true.” During Auror training they’d learned some simple hand-to-hand combat, just in case they ever lost their wand and couldn’t summon it back. Harry didn’t know a lot of wandless magic, but he sure as fuck had mastered a wandless summoning charm. Still, Harry had never officially learned to fight with any weapons outside of a wand.

Glorfindel walked over to one of the benches and placed his sword on top of it. Then he picked up a couple of wooden practice swords, made his way back to Harry and handed him one.

Harry tried out the weight of the sword in his hand. It felt quite heavy, and this was only a wooden training sword. “I hope you don’t expect me to become as good as elves who have literally thousands of years of practice,” Harry mumbled, worried he was about to make a giant fool of himself.

“Not at all,” Glorfindel said at once, giving Harry a reassuring smile. “I expect you to learn how to defend yourself against one or two orcs. I don’t expect you to lead armies and go to war.”

“Yeah, all right, I can probably do that.” Harry was happy to know Glorfindel understood that much. Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t want to learn sword fighting, because it was both useful and incredibly cool. But Harry in his old age was well aware of his own limitations, especially when comparing himself to very old elves who’d been alive for millennia.

“We start with posture,” Glorfindel said in such a way that it became clear he’d trained many, many people before. That did put Harry at ease somewhat, that Glorfindel knew what he was doing, not just with sword fighting, but also with teaching.

Harry had been a teacher at Hogwarts for a few decades. He knew how important it was that you knew what you were doing when trying to impart wisdom onto others.

Glorfindel lectured Harry on how to put his feet, how straight to keep his back, how to use the muscles in his stomach and finally, how to hold his sword. Then he made Harry preform a few very simple swings while keeping his posture perfect, which was easier said than done. Glorfindel possessed endless amounts of patience, though, and he gave Harry all the time he needed to adjust his body.

It was hard and sometimes tedious work, but Harry honestly didn’t mind it, because it was part of learning a new skill. And Harry had always been a curious guy, and he’d spent much of his free time as an adult learning different kinds of magical skills, like warding and enchanting. Not to mention some muggle skills as well, like learning how to drive a car and getting his driver’s license. And now he was learning sword fighting from an experienced warrior and Harry found himself enjoying the lesson very much, not in the least bit because Glorfindel kept smiling at him with approval at Harry’s efforts.

“Harry!” Bilbo came storming towards the training yard, Gandalf not far behind. “Harry, lad, get your tent!”

Lowering his wooden sword, Harry glanced from Glorfindel to Bilbo. The hobbit was red-faced and huffed and puffed as he finally reached them.

“Show Gandalf how amazing your tent is and that you can easily use it without drawing the attention of the enemy,” Bilbo said, eyes blazing as he stared up at Harry.

“All right,” Harry said, since he recognized it would make any travelling he might be doing in the future, such as visiting Bilbo in the Shire, much more comfortable if he could use his tent. He’d left his backpack in his bedroom, but the door to the veranda was opened, so Harry simply held out his hand and silently summoned his backpack.

Glorfindel gave him a curious look, probably wondering why Harry was standing there like a fool with his arm outstretched like that, but before long his backpack came sailing through the air, almost knocking Gandalf in the head. The old wizard could duck just in time before the backpack smacked into Harry’s hand.

“It’s a magical tent,” Harry told Gandalf as he pulled his tent out of his backpack. “I use very little magic to set it up, and it is protected from people sensing the magic inside.”

“I would certainly appreciate a demonstration,” Gandalf said with a gesture.

Harry popped up his tent right there on the sand with a quick swish of his wand. “That’s it. That’s all the magic it needs.”

Gandalf nodded while Bilbo opened the flap and urged the old wizard to enter. “Look, Gandalf! We need this for when we travel to the Shire next spring.”

Harry blinked in surprise for a moment. Apparently Bilbo had been planning Harry’s life out in ways he’d yet to mention to Harry himself. Not that it wasn’t a good idea. If Harry accompanied Bilbo to the Shire next year, he could help to keep the hobbit safe on the road and visit his home in Hobbiton at the same time. And Harry could easily fly back to Rivendell on his broomstick, which would take him a few days of travel at the most.

Somehow, Glorfindel must be reading Harry’s mind, because he followed Bilbo and Gandalf inside the tent. “What of Harry’s ability to fly? It draws a lot of attention, but it is a very useful skill.”

Gandalf stepped around the tent, taking in the whole area before turning towards Glorfindel with a chuckle. “It draws so much attention that the Dúnedain are already whispering about a strange new creature in the sky. Some were even talking of trying to shoot it out of the sky next they see it.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened in alarm and he turned on his heels to stare at Harry in the doorway. “You mustn’t fly again. It is too dangerous.”

Finally, Harry entered the tent as well and snorted at Glorfindel. “If I’m flying at full speed there isn’t an arrow in this world that can hit me. But I understand that seeing a man flying on a broomstick might be a worrying sight to the local population.” Harry couldn’t hold back an amused grin. There was something he knew that he hadn’t yet told his new friends. “How about I fly in my animal shape instead?” There was no word for Animagus in Westron, obviously, so Harry used the closest words he could.

“Animal shape?” Bilbo asked, sounding positively delighted.

Still grinning, Harry nodded. “It is difficult magic to learn and you cannot choose what you turn into. The animal chooses you. My father turned into a stag, and my… uncle became a big dog.” Harry had no clue how to say ‘godfather’, but uncle would do just fine. “One of my teachers was a cat, and one of my best friends, Hermione, became a marten once she learned the magic.” Harry took a few steps back so he had enough room and concentrated for a moment before transforming into a golden eagle.

The sharp vision of an eagle always took some getting used to, especially when looking at objects up close. Harry spread his wings and clapped his beak while he tilted his head from right to left as he glanced up at the people around him. Harry was amused to note that he stood almost as tall as Bilbo, even as a bird.

“Oh, how magnificent,” Bilbo said as he clapped his hands. “I do so love eagles.”

Both Gandalf and Glorfindel were giving Harry very strange looks. There was surprise, certainly, but there was also something else. Harry thought it might be delight and genuine happiness at seeing Harry as an eagle, though he had no idea why. Yes, the magic was impressive, but Harry got the distinct impression there was more to it than that.

“Flying like an eagle is certainly a lot less conspicuous than flying on a broomstick,” Gandalf said with obvious humour in his voice while he gave Harry an approving nod. “I see no problem with you using your animal shape to travel.”

“Great!” Harry said the moment he transformed back.

“And using your tent also shouldn’t be a problem, since its magic is hardly noticeable,” Gandalf added, much to Bilbo’s obvious satisfaction.

“Yes!” Bilbo looked like all of that day’s meals were being served at once. “We’ll be travelling in comfort after all, lad.”

Glorfindel was still staring at Harry as if he was seeing him for the very first time, which puzzled Harry to no extent but he decided to ignore it because there was one more magical thing he wanted Gandalf’s opinion on, now they were judging Harry’s magical abilities anyway.

“Let me pack the tent away because there is one last thing I want to show you.” They all trooped outside again and Harry quickly collapsed the tent and put it away in his backpack. “This is a way of travelling we used in our old world. It’s very fast. Observe.”

Harry had already examined the wards he’d felt around Rivendell when he’d just arrived and he’d felt nothing that would stop apparition. So he should be safe to do a quick demonstration without ending up splinching himself. Briefly closing his eyes, Harry focused his magic and apparated himself to the other end of the training yard.

“Oh no,” Gandalf said at once with a few firm shakes of his head while Bilbo gasped in shock and Glorfindel looked as though he was seeing something he’d never seen before even in his very long life. “It is impressive magic, Harry, but it would draw the attention of everyone around the whole of Middle-Earth.”

“Yeah, I had expected that might be the case,” Harry said with a shrug as he walked back to his friends. Apparition basically involved pushing the very fabric of space apart temporarily to push yourself through it. It would be noticeable by others, Harry had no doubt of that.

“In a true emergency, by all means, use it,” Gandalf said, his tone more reasonable and his gaze warm. “But otherwise just use a horse like everyone else.”

Laughing, Harry gave the old wizard an agreeable nod. “If only I could properly ride a horse, I would certainly do it.”

Glorfindel seemed to snap out of his shock of having seen Harry use some really impressive magic and he looked down at Harry with narrowed eyes. “Now that is a problem we can easily fix. We’re done here for today, but I suggest we move to the stables.”

“Er…” Harry wanted to protest, though he wasn’t even sure why. Perhaps merely on principle. Though Harry also recognized that he really did need to know how to ride a horse properly if he was to live in a society that depended so much on them for travelling. “Yeah, fine. I would appreciate learning that skill as well,” he said with a small nod at Glorfindel, because he did recognize that the elf was putting a lot of effort into teaching Harry skills he needed to know. “Thank you.”

“It is no trouble at all,” Glorfindel assured him as he gestured Harry to follow him. Bilbo and Gandalf took off back to the main building in search of some tea and a quiet place to smoke a pipe. Glorfindel walked into the opposite direction, though, where apparently the stables were. Harry hadn’t yet had time to explore every single corner of Rivendell, so he hadn’t seen them yet.

The stables were partially built into the cliff wall at the end of the valley, away from the residential buildings. There were also barns there for some of the livestock, and several paddocks fenced off with beautifully carved wooden fences.

“You will ride Gailthel,” Glorfindel said before speaking to one of the elves working at the stable in quick Sindarin. “She is Elladan’s old horse, still healthy and eager to get out but not suitable for long patrols anymore.”

The stable hand brought out a beautiful mare with a coat so light grey it almost looked silver. Harry was happy to see she was wearing a normal saddle and bridle and that he wasn’t expected to ride a horse without such things, like Glorfindel often did.

Gailthel gave Harry a curious look and a long sniff but deemed him acceptable as Harry took the reins from the stable hand. Glorfindel had disappeared altogether while Harry waited beside the mare, gently petting her nose and neck. She seemed the patient sort, like Zilib had been, and thus a perfect horse for a beginner rider like Harry.

Glorfindel returned with Asfaloth and quickly mounted the stallion. “Come on, Harry. The best way to learn how to ride is to do it.”

Harry managed to haul himself onto Gailthel with much less grace than Glorfindel, but thankfully the elf didn’t comment on that and waited quietly until Harry was seated properly and got hold of the reins.

“Back straight,” Glorfindel said at once while Harry sagged in the saddle. “Knees tight against the horse and keep squeezing. That way you won’t fall off.”

Harry did as he was told and Gailthel took it all in stride as she slowly walked after Asfaloth towards the bridge. But instead of steering Asfaloth across the bridge first, Glorfindel held him back and gestured at Harry to go on.

“I want you to take the lead, just ride around the valley, steer Gailthel wherever you want to go.” Glorfindel gave Harry an encouraging smile, which did things to Harry’s body.

“Sure,” Harry mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks though he wasn’t even sure why. Glorfindel had been very pleasant company so far, Harry had to admit that, but he still wasn’t sure what to make of the elf’s new outlook on Harry. Then again, Harry didn’t want to question it too much either. Perhaps he should just enjoy the time he got to spend with a handsome elf like Glorfindel. Harry urged Gailthel on while Glorfindel followed him, giving him some gentle corrections from time to time. Harry quickly learned how to sit on a horse, how to hold the reins properly and how to tell the horse where to go. Apparently he’d been doing a very poor job of it thus far and poor Zilib deserved a fucking medal for having put up with him all that time, Harry privately thought.

Still, it was a fun couple of hours of riding a beautiful horse like Gailthel around an amazing place like Rivendell with a handsome elf following along. There were definitely worse ways to spend an afternoon. Plus Harry got to explore parts of Rivendell he hadn’t seen before, like the orchard and several buildings where elves were hard at work weaving and creating pottery and blacksmithing.

On the way back to the stables, Glorfindel told Harry to urge Gailthel into a trot and then told him how to sit on the horse and move with her. Harry managed after a few tries and they reached the stables just as the bells for the final meal rang around the valley.

“Hey, Glorfindel!” a young voice shouted when they rode into the courtyard.

Harry eased Gailthel into a stop while he stared at the young man who sat on one of the fences and waved happily at the elf behind Harry. It was a human boy no older than thirteen or fourteen, dressed in elven clothes and speaking perfect Sindarin as he launched into an excited story while Glorfindel rode up to him.

What on earth was a human kid doing in Rivendell?

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

“This is Harry, our second born wizard,” Glorfindel said, gesturing towards Harry while the boy jumped down from the fence and approached them. “Harry, this is Estel. He is Lord Elrond’s ward.”

“Are you the wizard who made that amazing bathhouse?” Estel said, automatically switching to Westron while he gave Harry an eager smile. He was quite tall for his age and he had a gangly look about him that teenagers often got while they were going through a growth spurt. His hair was dark and his eyes were grey and Harry was sure that he’d grow up to be quite the handsome young man someday in the future. “I just spent an hour in the large pool. It was fantastic. I’ve never been so clean in my entire life.”

Harry laughed while he gave Gailthel a couple of pats on her neck before one of the stable hands took the reins and led her away. “I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it.” Harry was also secretly very pleased to see there were other humans besides him in Middle Earth that valued being clean. Harry still shuddered whenever he thought back to all the unwashed folks in Bree.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Glorfindel said to the boy after he’d handed Asfaloth over to another elf. “You just spent a month in the wild travelling with your kin. You must be starving after eating nothing but rabbits and berries.”

Estel snorted and gave Glorfindel an unimpressed look. “We had plenty of hard cheese and dried meats with us. We hardly starved.” Then he briefly frowned before his face broke out in a wide grin. “But I am hungry actually, you’re not wrong about that.”

Glorfindel gestured for Estel to go ahead and make his way to the dining hall while he and Harry brought up the rear. Harry couldn’t help but notice that Glorfindel had shut down a bit again. For the whole afternoon, as he instructed Harry in sword fighting and horse riding, Glorfindel had been open and nothing but friendly and charming. But now Harry noticed the slightest amount of tension in the elf’s shoulders again, while his forehead was wrinkled just a bit. It was as though Glorfindel felt particularly protective of Estel and couldn’t help feel worried about introducing the boy to their brand-new wizard. Harry didn’t take that sudden shift in Glorfindel’s behaviour personally. He was simply glad that Glorfindel now treated him with kindness at all.

“I expect you to train with me every afternoon,” Glorfindel told him, sapphire eyes full of expectation as he stared down at Harry. While Harry was by no means short, Glorfindel still towered over him. Most elves did, even the females. “No excuses.”

Harry briefly considered arguing just for the fun of it, but then he decided against it since he didn’t want to accidentally piss Glorfindel off after the wonderful afternoon they’d spent together. “Yes, Captain.” Harry couldn’t help giving Glorfindel a cheeky little smile, which he quickly softened to something much more grateful. “Thank you for your help,” he whispered, since he was honestly really happy to receive this much needed instruction in the things he had to learn to live a full life in this new world.

Estel already stood in line and was loading up his plate when Harry and Glorfindel entered the dining hall. They got in line themselves and Harry served himself a generous portion of the food available. There were flatbreads and several meat and vegetable fillings to choose from, leftover from lunch. Harry got a bit of everything and also got a bowl of yoghurt as dessert. Bilbo was already seated at a table with Gandalf, both of them enjoying their meal. Harry joined them and was then immediately interrogated by Bilbo about all the things Glorfindel had taught him. Much to his surprise, Harry felt a small pang of disappointment when Glorfindel went off to join a different table full of human men.

“They’re the Dúnedain,” Bilbo said when he noticed Harry’s curious look. “They’re the Rangers of the North. They patrol the lands and keep them safe.”

They must be Estel’s kin, Harry realized as he turned his attention back to his dinner. He glanced at the rowdy group from time to time. He was so used to seeing nothing but Elves these days, aside from one friendly hobbit and whatever Gandalf was, that seeing a group of humans seemed suddenly exotic. They were all tall men, most of them had dark hair, and they were all built for hard work and long travel. Their faces were tanned and their hands strong and full of scars. They also all spoke fluently Sindarin as they talked with Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir and a number of other elves.

It wasn’t until they were gathered in the Hall of Fire later that evening that Harry actually got to meet some of them.

Three of the Dúnedain approached Harry, all of them holding cups of wine. “Are you the wizard that made the bathhouse?” the oldest of them asked in Westron.

“That’s me,” Harry said with a smile as he sat beside Bilbo on one of the many benches around the room. “I’m Harry. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Pelevir,” the oldest man said and then gestured at his companions. “And these are my kinsmen, Alagond and Imranar.”

Imranar, who Harry guessed was in his thirties, took a step closer towards Harry and gave him an eager look. “Can you build such a bathhouse anywhere?”

“Now, now,” Bilbo said before Harry could even open his mouth. “I found the wizard, so if Harry is going to be building bathhouses outside of Imladris, it will be in the Shire first, I assure you.”

Imranar quickly held up his hands in surrender, clearly not having expected such a feisty reply from the hobbit. Harry gave Bilbo an incredulous look. No wonder Bilbo seemed so insistent that Harry travel back with him to the Shire, Harry thought while he shook his head. Not that he could blame Bilbo or any of the others for wanting running hot water.

“I’m very busy right now,” Harry said diplomatically, and he wasn’t even lying. Between installing sinks with taps in every bedroom in Rivendell and all the things he needed to learn, most importantly a whole new language, his schedule was rather full for the coming weeks if not months.

“We understand,” Alagond said with a small nod. He was far more soft-spoken than his two companions, though he seemed younger than Imranar. “We will simply have to visit Imladris more often to make use of your creation here.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Harry said, even though that wasn’t really up to him. Then again, Lord Elrond seemed happy enough to receive all manner of visitors and these men seemed to be regulars from what Harry could tell.

The three men disappeared into the crowd again and Harry started chuckling when something occurred to him.

“What?” Bilbo asked, giving Harry a curious look.

“I just never imagined that I’d become a magical plumber after I moved to a new world,” Harry said, unable to stop laughing. Somehow that seemed hysterically funny to him. Here he was, the Chosen One, the Man Who Conquered, the Master of Death, and now also the Giver of Hot Running Water, apparently.

“You brought this on yourself,” Bilbo said without a smidge of sympathy. “You gave us something we didn’t even know we wanted, and now everyone else wants it as well.” Bilbo leaned a little closer and blinked wide eyes as he stared up at Harry. “I do apologize for making assumptions earlier.”

Harry immediately waved his comments away. “I’ll give you hot and cold running water in your home, Bilbo, don’t worry.”

“And a bathtub?” Bilbo asked expectantly.

“And a bathtub,” Harry said while giving Bilbo a reassuring smile. It was the least he could do for his friend. Without Bilbo, Harry wouldn’t have come as far as he had in such a short period of time, of that he was certain.

Bilbo sat back, face full of satisfaction. “I shall be the envy of the entire Shire. I cannot wait to see Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’ face when she learns I have hot water on demand.”

Harry shook his head and turned his attention towards the music being played, leaving Bilbo to his daydreams.

The next day Harry woke up refreshed and with a calm sense of purpose. For the first time since he’d arrived at Imladris he got the impression he’d been accepted by most of the elves there, now that he’d proven to be beyond useful to them. Glorfindel openly accepting him now probably also had something to do with it. Yes, Harry began to realize that coming to Middle Earth might just have been a really good decision, even if Harry hadn’t had much of a say in it when he’d performed the ritual.

Harry spent the morning in the kitchens, doing mountains of prep work in minutes and kneading enough dough to bake bread for several days. Afterwards he spent an hour in the library with Erestor for another, much needed Sindarin lesson. After the midday meal, Glorfindel came to get Harry and accompanied him to the training yard. Lots of the Dúnedain were there, engaging each other in mock fights. Harry recognized Pelevir, Alagond and Imranar amongst them.

“Harry!” Pelevir shouted across the yard when Harry arrived. “You must show us your fighting skills.”

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm while Glorfindel chuckled beside him. “I cannot fight with a sword. I’m only just learning. I’ve had one lesson so far,” Harry yelled back, heart pounding in his chest. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself in front of so many seasoned warriors.

Glorfindel gave him a brief glance, and then seemed to come to a decision. “Harry cannot yet fight with a sword, it is true. But he can fight with magic.” Glorfindel paused dramatically, narrowing his eyes at Pelevir. “Unless you are too scared to fight a wizard.”

“Never!” Pelevir bellowed while Harry turned and gave Glorfindel a disbelieving look.

“I did say that I wanted to see you fight with magic,” Glorfindel whispered, his face the picture of innocence. “Now you have a chance to demonstrate.”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled as he stepped into the ring, drawing his wand. He knew he could easily win a fight as long as he could use his magic. He simply hadn’t wanted to do so without the knowledge and consent of his opponent. Surprising someone with advanced transfiguration seemed like an impolite thing to do.

Pelevir stood with his sword drawn, his expression full of determination while his grey eyes burned with defiance. “Your tricks do not scare me, wizard. Your little stick is no match for my blade.”

They had drawn quite the crowd of spectators, both men and elves. Harry glimpsed Elladan and Elrohir amongst them.

“Begin!” Glorfindel called.

Pelevir immediately charged Harry with his sword ready to strike. Harry in return transfigured the sword into sand.

A loud, collective gasp sounded amongst the crowd around them as the sand fell to the ground. Pelevir stood stock still, a look of sheer shock on his face, empty hands still held in front of him. Then a primal scream of rage escaped Pelevir and he charged at Harry with his hands outstretched, as though he wanted to throttle him.

Harry flicked his wand and thought Levicorpus. Pelevir was yanked up into the air, feet first, and slowly rotated as he dangled upside down.

Glorfindel gave a surprised burst of laughter, quickly followed by the whole crowd laughing. No one seemed angry, not even Pelevir, Harry was happy to note. You never knew how someone would respond to magic, especially those who weren’t used to the things you could do. Harry flicked his wand again and undid the transfiguration, restoring the sword to it’s previous state. “Watch your head,” he said right before cancelling the spell. Pelevir dropped to the ground with a quiet grunt.

“Well done,” Glorfindel said as he walked up to Harry with a proud smile on his face. “I had no idea what to expect, but I must say that your use of magic is very efficient in battle.” Then his expression darkened somewhat as he looked down at Harry. “Though you must remember that when fighting orcs, taking away their swords alone won’t be enough. Those beasts will fight just as eagerly and viciously with teeth and claws.”

“Duly noted,” Harry said with a grateful nod. Having Glorfindel compliment him certainly wasn’t the worst thing in the world, especially since Harry knew very well that he’d never be much of a swordsman or horse rider compared to the elves. It was nice to see Glorfindel appreciate Harry for his own talents.

After that Glorfindel insisted that Harry continue his sword practice. No one held it against Harry that he barely had a clue what he was doing while holding his wooden sword while Glorfindel talked him through several strike positions. Around them the sounds of metal hitting metal kept them company as men and elves engaged in short fights.

After an hour or two, when Harry’s shoulders were seriously starting to protest all the new movements Harry was doing time and again, Elladan and Elrohir approached them.

“Now would be an excellent time for a soak in the bathhouse, wouldn’t you say?” Elladan said while Elrohir gave an agreeable nod.

“I suppose we can spend some time cleaning up after all our hard work,” Glorfindel agreed without any argument. “Are you coming, Harry?”

“Er…” Harry had no reason to refuse the invitation and yet he found it suddenly very hard to say yes. The reason for that was that for some reason seeing Glorfindel naked did things to Harry. Very strange, overwhelming things. “Yes,” he finally said when Elrohir poked him in the side with his elbow. “I’m sweaty so a bath would be welcome.”

How odd was it that seeing other elves in the nude had very little effect on Harry, aside from an impersonal sort of appreciation for their beautiful bodies. But the idea of seeing Glorfindel in the buff turned Harry into a blushing teenager. Still, Harry was an adult and a Gryffindor to boot, and he was determined to not let whatever silly things were causing this ruin his chances of building a friendship with the elf in question. So Harry squared his shoulders and trooped after the rest as they headed for the bathhouse.

There were plenty of other elves there enjoying the facilities, but it wasn’t crowded by any means. Harry kept his back turned to Glorfindel as he got undressed and did the same as he stepped under the shower to wash off any sweat and grime.

“Our favourite bath is free,” Elladan said with an excited smile as he hurried towards one of the round pools. Harry followed him at once, still not looking in Glorfindel’s direction, even though he knew the elf was right behind him. Harry all but jumped into the pool and immediately hit the button for bubbles so any private bits would be obscured as they all sat side by side. Glorfindel lowered himself into the water right beside Harry and even though Harry hadn’t meant to look he still got an eyeful of Glorfindel’s cock. It was just a second, perhaps even less than that, and yet the sight of Glorfindel’s dick seared into Harry’s mind. Glorfindel certainly had nothing to complain about, Harry was pleased to note.

Across from them, Elladan and Elrohir were grinning at Harry as though they hadn’t seen something as entertaining in at least a few centuries.

Glorfindel pressed the button for the rose scented bath foam and then sat back, stretching out his legs while resting his arms on the ledge behind them. Harry tried to keep his gaze away from his neighbour, he really did, but he just couldn’t stop glancing at Glorfindel, admiring his flawless skin and the muscles he saw rippling beneath it.

“Is it true Pelevir asked you to create a bathhouse for the Dúnedain?” Elladan asked after they’d all relaxed in silence for a while.

“It was Imranar,” Harry said with a shrug. “But yes, he asked, and Bilbo told him off immediately.”

Elladan and Elrohir laughed but Glorfindel gave Harry a calculating look. “Bilbo seems quite possessive of you, doesn’t he?”

Harry blinked at Glorfindel, unsure where the elf was going with that. “Bilbo was merely making sure he’s on top of my customer list for magical plumbing outside of Imladris.”

“Hm.” Glorfindel seemed to accept that and tilted his head back, eyes slipping closed. This exposed his neck in ways that made Harry want to run his tongue over his Adam’s apple while he buried his hands in Glorfindel’s golden hair.

Holy fuck, what was happening to him? Where was this sudden lust for Glorfindel coming from?

It couldn’t just be that Glorfindel was hot. Every fucking elf Harry met was hot. Elladan and Elrohir, sitting naked across from him, were hot. Hell, even Elrond was hot and Harry certainly didn’t have any invasive sexual fantasies about any of them.

Things started stirring that made Harry very grateful he’d turned on the bubbles. The last thing he wanted was for Glorfindel to notice Harry’s cock getting hard.

A bunch of Dúnedain, Estel among them, were making use of the big pool with much gusto. Estel kept climbing out of the pool, taking a giant leap and jumping back into the pool while trying to cause as big of a wave as possible. Harry chuckled as he watched the boy though he could feel Glorfindel sitting beside him as though his mere presence came close to burning Harry’s skin.

“Too bad Arwen is away,” Elladan mumbled, also tipping his head back so he could relax even more. “She is certainly missing out.”

Elrohir chuckled. “Our sister is going to wish she’d come back sooner, that is for sure.”

“When is she coming back?” Harry asked, more so to create a distraction for himself than out of genuine curiosity.

“In a decade or so, probably,” Elladan said without a hint of concern.

Harry blinked his eyes as he processed that. He’d expected Arwen to return by the end of the summer or something. Not in ten years’ time. Of course, for an immortal people, what did a decade matter, really.

“Though if she ever finds out about the bathhouse, she might very well return sooner,” Glorfindel suggested, head still tilted back and eyes still closed. Harry caught himself staring, again, and quickly looked away.

“Wait,” Harry said as something dawned on him. “You have no way to communicate with your sister?”

Elrohir looked at Harry as though he suddenly doubted his intelligence. “She’s a month’s travel away, across the Misty Mountains. We can only send letters if someone else travels the distance, but that doesn’t happen every year.”

Frowning, Harry sat up a bit straighter in the water, his mind suddenly full of ideas. But before he could voice any of them a gasp of outrage sounded behind them.

Erestor stood there in all his naked glory, wet hair plastered to the sides of his face. “What have I told you?” Erestor screeched, causing Glorfindel to sit up in alarm, hand reaching for a sword that wasn’t there as water splashed around him. “You must only speak Sindarin with Harry and here you are all speaking Westron as though you don’t care about his progress in my lessons.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly in Westron, and then grimaced when Erestor gave him a glare full of outrage. “Goheno nin,” he quickly added, which meant ‘forgive me’ in Sindarin.

Erestor huffed and crossed his arms, still not satisfied apparently. “From now on, Harry, if I catch you speaking Westron, you will clean out a horse stable without magic. One stable for every occasion you speak Westron.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed and he looked down, suddenly feeling as though he was back at Hogwarts. He’d felt much the same whenever McGonagall scolded him for whatever rule he’d broken. There had been plenty of such occasions over the years, after all.

Elladan gave Erestor an unimpressed look. “If you want us to stop speaking Westron to Harry, then why are you still speaking it?”

Erestor drew himself up to his full height and started speaking in rapid Sindarin. Harry couldn’t make out most of what was said, but the gist seemed to be that Erestor severely doubted Elladan’s intelligence. That was all Harry got from it.

Eventually Erestor stormed off, leaving the four of them to process what the hell had just happened.

“He’s right, though,” Glorfindel said eventually with an apologetic smile, his eyes soft as he stared at Harry. “Only speaking Sindarin from now on is the fastest way to learn it.”

“I know,” Harry sighed, letting himself fall back with a small huff. He knew he needed to learn the language, but it was just so easy to speak Westron with everyone since he knew that pretty well by now. When he’d first met Bilbo, learning Westron had been a necessity, because they had no other way to communicate. But now that Harry actually could talk to most of the people around him it was a lot more difficult to purposefully cut himself off from all communication for the foreseeable future.

“You’ll learn quickly,” Glorfindel assured him, briefly resting his large hand on Harry’s arm. Then he turned to the twins and started talking in Sindarin. Harry was glad to note that Glorfindel spoke a lot slower than he usually did and that he was careful to clearly pronounce every word. The twins got the gist of it and returned the favour.

Harry spent the rest of their time in the pool listening carefully to the discussion around him and he was happy to note that he could make out what they were talking about in general terms, which was their sword practice that afternoon.

Harry managed to get out of the pool before Glorfindel and hurried towards the changing rooms. But no matter how much of an effort Harry made not to look too closely at Glorfindel’s naked body, he still saw much more than he wanted as they dried off side by side and got dressed again.

It should be illegal to be as attractive as Glorfindel was, Harry decided by the time he put his shoes on. Seriously.

It seemed that Erestor had spoken to all of Harry’s friends because during dinner Bilbo gave Harry a kind smile and said in slow, clear Sindarin that Harry simply had to make an effort to learn quickly.

“Yes,” Harry said in broken Sindarin. “I hear a little. I not speak much.”

“You will learn,” Bilbo said, face full of conviction, and then he proceeded to tell Harry about his afternoon in Sindarin.

The next two weeks were an exercise in frustration for Harry. The good thing was that his understanding of Sindarin went through the roof, but it was still a very difficult language to speak. And thus Harry felt more like an outsider than he’d ever done before ever since arriving in Rivendell. The people around him made a genuine effort to help Harry learn, though. They talked slowly, they explained words Harry obviously didn’t understand, and they encouraged him to say what he wanted to say, even if he had to search long and hard for the right words to use.

Gaeven made sure everyone in the kitchen took their time communicating with Harry, and Raithon made it a point to talk with Harry whenever they spent some time in the Hall of Fire, no matter how much time it took for Harry to say something in return.

Harry also found time to visit the actual library a few times, not just Erestor’s stuffy office. He browsed some of the shelves and pulled some interesting looking books off them to see if he could already read bits and pieces.

Some books had plenty of words written in them that Harry recognized, but others were written in gibberish. Harry knew the alphabet, but the order of the letters made no sense and formed words Harry obviously wasn’t familiar with.

Raithon found Harry muttering obscenities at one such book he couldn’t read and started laughing. “It’s not written in Sindarin,” Raithon said in between chuckles. “It’s written in Quenya, the other elven language.”

“There’s another elven language?” Harry yelled in outrage and he was so surprised that he said it all in Westron.

“Ha!” Erestor appeared from between the stacks and gave Harry a look full of triumph. “You will be mucking out a stable today for this!” And then he frowned, because he’d spoken that in Westron as well.

Rolling his eyes, Harry released a sigh. It seemed that after Harry finally mastered Sindarin there was yet another language he had to learn, since about half the books in the library seemed to be written in Quenya.

Harry did muck out a horse stable that evening by hand, but since it was Gailthel’s stable he really didn’t mind. Estel kept him company and happily tested Harry on his knowledge of the Sindarin words for just about every item around them.

In the meantime Harry’s usual work continued. His days passed in a structured order that helped Harry adjust to his new lot in life. The Dúnedain left after a couple of days and after that it was just Harry and Glorfindel in the training yard most afternoons. Harry was making some progress with the sword, but it was hard work and physically exhausting.

“You need more muscles,” Glorfindel said one afternoon, poking Harry in the biceps. Harry understood perfectly what he meant, unfortunately. That was the downside of being a wizard. Since you had magic to do everything for you, your body rarely got a good workout. Harry was certainly making up for that thanks to Glorfindel’s unrelenting training regime. Afterwards they often spent time together in the bathhouse, usually with others there. The twins and Bilbo were frequent companions, but Gaeven and Raithon also joined them a couple of times a week. Harry was thankful for the distractions his friends offered because Glorfindel without clothes on was still something Harry didn’t know how to deal with.

Harry knew, without question, that he was attracted to the elf. Moreso perhaps than he’d ever been attracted to another person. It was driving Harry to distraction and he spent many a night in bed, fisting his own cock, his mind swimming in memories of Glorfindel’s naked body.

This only added to Harry’s frustration, because he couldn’t talk to anyone about it in his limited Sindarin. He had no idea how to proposition an elf, or if he even should proposition Glorfindel in the first place. Harry’s body wanted to, very much so. But Harry wasn’t sure if Glorfindel was even attracted to him. He was now quite sure that Glorfindel liked him, at least. Their friendship grew with leaps and bounds the more time they spent together. Aside from sword training, Glorfindel also took Harry out horse riding three times a week around the valley. Harry became a much more confident rider now that he had someone teach him properly. Glorfindel also took his time showing Harry how to take care of a horse. How to wipe them down after a ride, how to clean their hooves and much more. And Harry once again thought back to poor Zilib and how neglectful he’d been in his care of her. Then again, Bilbo hadn’t known any better either, so Harry could hardly be blamed for not looking after his horse properly.

All the while Harry spent a few hours each day, as his schedule allowed, installing sinks and taps in people’s bedrooms around Imladris.

This also brought him to Glorfindel’s bedroom, which Harry couldn’t help be curious about. Harry wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Perhaps a minimalist room full of weapons as the only decorations or something like that.

Glorfindel’s bedroom, as it turned out, was downright cosy.

The furniture was much the same as what Harry had seen in most other rooms. But there was also a wool rug on the floor and blue drapes that covered the lattice windows. There were plenty of pieces of artwork spread around the room; several paintings hung on the walls and small statues and sparkling crystals dotted the furniture. There were weapons, but only a shield that hung on the wall and a long knife that lay on a dresser.

“Bain,” Harry said, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about commenting on Glorfindel’s decorating skills. Bain meant as much as beautiful in Sindarin.

Glorfindel beamed at him and then talked about some of the objects in slow, clear Sindarin. Harry understood that the shield was old and had been used in battle, but it was structurally compromised and was now only good to use as a piece of art. The knife had been a gift from someone named Celebrimbor, but Harry had no idea who that was. Some jealous little part of Harry wondered if it was a former lover, but Harry quickly shook those thoughts off. Glorfindel was thousands of years old. Harry could hardly expect the man to still be a virgin.

Harry had saved the most beautiful rock he’d found for Glorfindel, just because he could. He transfigured the snow-white rock with red veins running through it into a nice sized sink and added a tap. A few runes later, Glorfindel had running hot and cold water in his room.

“Annon allen,” Glorfindel whispered and briefly cupped Harry’s cheek with a warm hand while giving him a smile that did things to Harry’s whole body.

“No problem,” Harry said in English, because he was so distracted by Glorfindel’s close presence that he wasn’t even sure anymore what language he should be speaking.

Glorfindel seemed delighted that Harry spoke in his native tongue for a moment, as though it was somehow an accomplishment that he’d broken Harry’s brain to such an extent.

Life certainly had been easier when Glorfindel had simply been a ginormous arse instead of a kind and warm and ridiculously handsome friend, Harry mused as he trekked back to his own room. He needed to take care of a rather urgent problem in the privacy of his own bed before he could get back to work.

Harry also spent time on transfiguring mirrors late at night before going to bed. They were simple hand mirrors with handles made of bronze. Harry then spent hours inscribing countless tiny runes into them before adding a whole array of charms.

When a pair of the mirrors were finally done, Harry took them with him to breakfast. Bilbo gave him a curious look as he saw Harry put the mirrors down on the table beside his plate. “Later,” Harry said and Bilbo gave an agreeable nod before starting on his own breakfast.

“Why did you bring the mirrors?” Bilbo asked slowly once his plate was empty, and Harry was happy that nowadays he was becoming much better at understanding Sindarin.

Harry handed him one of the mirrors. “Go outside, look in the mirror and say my name. Harry Potter.” Harry was overjoyed he’d been able to say all of that in Sindarin. Perhaps Erestor’s plan hadn’t been put into place merely to torture Harry after all.

“I will do as you say because I know this must be good,” Bilbo said, hopping off the bench. He marched out of the hall and into the gardens.

Harry held up the mirror and waited for it to glow briefly. Moments later Bilbo’s face appeared and Harry was treated to a gasp of shock, followed by a shriek of joy.

“Harry!” Bilbo held the mirror up far too close to his face, giving Harry a perfect view up his nostrils. “Can we speak like this?”

“Yes, we speak,” Harry said, laughing at his friend’s enthusiastic response. “We speak like this when you in Shire and me in Imladris.”

Bilbo’s mouth sank open and at once he started running, the mirror offering Harry a shaky view of Bilbo’s face.

“Lad,” Bilbo said as he all but flew at Harry and hugged his legs when Harry got up to meet him halfway. “This is your finest invention yet.”

Glorfindel appeared behind Harry, quickly followed by Elladan and Elrohir. Gaeven and Raithon weren’t far behind, either.

Harry beamed up at Glorfindel and the twins, showing them the mirror in his hands. “I turn eagle, I fly Lothlórien and I give mirror to Arwen.”

Glorfindel released a strangled noise and glared down at Harry. “Absolutely not.”

Chapter Text

Something sharp and heated came to life in Harry’s chest as he narrowed his eyes. “You not boss for mine,” he said in mangled Sindarin. “I fly, you quiet, you no speak.” Harry desperately wanted to switch to Westron but he saw Erestor lurking in the background so he made do with Sindarin instead.

Glorfindel crossed his arms and took a step closer so their chests almost touched. “I am the Captain of the Guard and it is my duty to see to everyone’s safety, including yours.”

“You see me fight.” Harry raised his chin up, jaws clenched as he stared into Glorfindel’s sapphire eyes. “I am good fighter. I am safe.”

“Perhaps we should briefly retire to my quarters,” Elrond said, appearing out of nowhere. “This is not the place for a quarrel.” Elrond waved a hand around, indicating the dining hall and its many inhabitants, most who were giving them curious yet worried looks.

“Yes, good,” Harry muttered, following Elrond closely. Glorfindel fell into step with him, resolutely not looking at Harry. Elladan and Erestor were not far behind and Bilbo and Gandalf brought up the rear as they all made their way through the main building towards Elrond’s private quarters. Harry had never been there before, but he had little time to closely observe it because Glorfindel immediately started talking in rapid Sindarin that was too fast for Harry to completely understand.

Elrond must have noticed the frustration on Harry’s face, because he raised his hand to silence Glorfindel. “For now I suggest we speak Westron, so Harry will have a chance to speak his mind.”

“Fine,” Glorfindel said as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “As I was saying, it is far too dangerous for Harry to travel to Lothlórien by himself.”

“I’d be a bird,” Harry said at once, relieved he was able to defend himself properly in a language he knew well enough. “I’d be flying quickly. No one would have a chance to hurt me.”

“Except whatever orcs are lurking in the Misty Mountains and who love to shoot down anything that passes overhead.” Glorfindel looked like he very much wanted to roll his eyes.

“I would fly very high, out of reach of their arrows,” Harry countered, rolling his own eyes because this whole situation was absurd. “Listen, I am a grown man. You cannot command me what to do.”

Glorfindel ignored Harry completely, as though he was a child that could easily be ignored in favour of the adults in the room. “It is not just the journey that concerns me,” Glorfindel said, giving Elrond an urgent look. “What do you think Galadriel would do if an unknown wizard bearing magical gifts suddenly showed up in her realm.”

Elrond, who until that moment had only looked vaguely amused by the drama unfolding in front of him, suddenly appeared downright worried. “She would not take that well.”

“Exactly.” Glorfindel’s shoulders seemed to sag with relief now that someone else appeared to understand his reasons for keeping Harry in Rivendell.

Harry himself was starting to understand the scope of the problem as well. He’d been told the story about how Sauron had appeared as a bloke named Annatar to give the elves amazing magical gifts. The last thing he wanted was to upset any of the elves in Middle-earth and give them any reason to attack him.

“Hmm.” Gandalf frowned, his bushy eyebrows drawing down. “The Lady Galadriel would be most unkind to any who would threaten her realm. Harry would not be safe there.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “How many can fit on that flying broomstick of yours, lad?”

Harry blinked as he stared down at Bilbo before cracking a big grin. “Two fit on there. I could bring an elf with me to assure Lady Galadriel I have good intentions.”

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his vest, Bilbo beamed up at Harry, clearly chuffed he’d been the one to come up with a solution.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a quick look before Elrohir said, “Glorfindel should go with Harry. He’s old and powerful enough that grandmother would accept his reassurances.”

“I cannot just forsake my responsibilities here,” Glorfindel said, though he sounded like he didn’t really mind accompanying Harry.

“Of course you can,” Elladan said at once with a charming smile.

“You’ve trained us yourself for millennia. We can keep our home safe for a few weeks while you go visit Lothlórien,” Elrohir added, giving Glorfindel a look that clearly dared him to argue.

Elrond nodded in agreement and clapped his hands together. “Then that’s settled. Glorfindel will accompany Harry on his trip to Lothlórien. I wouldn’t mind being able to speak to Arwen to see how she’s faring.”

Glorfindel gave Harry a dubious look. “I would see how this flying broomstick of yours works with two occupants.”

“Let’s go then.” Harry grinned at seeing Glorfindel so clearly uncomfortable with the idea of flying. Harry nodded his goodbye to everyone else and then led the way to his own chambers to get his broom. Glorfindel followed him readily enough but Harry could tell from his tense gait that the elf was feeling just a bit nervous.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Harry said as he opened the door to the terrace and urged Glorfindel to step into the gardens with him. “I’m an excellent flyer.”

Glorfindel merely nodded as he carefully watched Harry mount his broom. When Harry gestured him closer, Glorfindel seemed to visibly gather his courage before swinging a long leg over the broomstick and settling down behind Harry.

“Hold on tightly,” Harry said as he got used to the extra weight on the broomstick. It had been a while since he had an extra person on his broom. The last time was when Ron and Hermione’s kids were small and wanted to go on broom rides with their uncle Harry. Glorfindel slid his arms around Harry’s waist, which Harry really didn’t mind. Having Glorfindel’s large, strong body press against back wasn’t the worst feeling in the world.

Though Harry was sorely tempted to shoot off into the sky at breakneck speed, he didn’t want to traumatize Glorfindel for life and turn him off flying forever. So instead Harry pushed off nice and slow, letting the broom rise into the air at a leisurely pace. He stopped ascending when they were about ten feet in the air and calmly steered the broom forwards.

“Not so bad, right?” Harry said over his shoulder, giving Glorfindel an expectant look.

“No, this is fine,” Glorfindel said and he seemed to mean that. He even managed a tentative smile as Harry sped up a little and zigzagged in between some nearby trees until they hovered over the raging river.

“How far is Lothlórien anyway?” Harry asked, because while he’d seen a map of Middle-earth in the library, he hadn’t yet had the chance to study where all the settlements were.

“About half as far as Bree is,” Glorfindel said after a brief moment of thought. Harry was grateful Glorfindel gave such a clear example, because that gave Harry a good idea of how quickly they could travel there.

“If we leave this afternoon,” Harry said, speeding up a bit again and gaining a bit of height. “We can camp for the night and we’ll reach Lothlórien by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Truly?” Glorfindel sounded like he didn’t quite believe Harry could get them there that quickly.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a laugh. “Hold on.” And with that, Harry accelerated his broom while steering up into the sky. He didn’t even push the broom to its maximum capacities, but held it at a fast but even flight. They shot up and over the edge of the cliffs around them until Rivendell was but a small settlement below them.

Glorfindel released a string of curses in Sindarin while he tightened his arms around Harry even more. But he held on and didn’t panic so Harry counted that as a win.

Harry slowed the broom down a bit again so he could talk without having to shout. “If I pushed the broom as fast as it could go, we could make it to Lothlórien in a day probably. But that would not be very comfortable.”

“Best take it a bit slower then,” Glorfindel quickly agreed, and when Harry looked at him over his shoulder, Glorfindel even managed a small but heartfelt smile.

After circling over Rivendell a few times, Harry steered them down again where they saw several familiar figures standing in the gardens, watching them. Bilbo and Gandalf were both puffing on their pipes while Elrond seemed content to quietly watch Harry’s flying skills.

Harry touched down gently in front of them and Glorfindel released a deep sigh, obviously relieved to feel solid ground beneath his feet again.

“We can leave after the midday meal,” Harry said, pretending not to feel sorry when Glorfindel released him and got off the broomstick. “I’ll have to put the finishing touches on Arwen’s mirror but then we can go.”

“So soon?” Bilbo looked at Harry with wide, worried eyes.

“We’ll be back within a couple of days, a week at the most,” Harry said with a reassuring smile. He couldn’t imagine staying any longer than that. He had plenty to do in Rivendell, after all.

“I will inform those elves whose spouses accompanied Arwen. They will want to give you letters to deliver.” Elrond nodded at them and quickly turned to head into the main building.

“I will pack some clothing,” Glorfindel said as he made to follow Elrond. “Do I need to bring anything else? Food?”

“Nah, I have plenty of food.” Harry now recalled he still had some boar meat frozen in his tent. “But bring a warm jacket or cloak. It gets cold when flying fast high up in the air.”

Glorfindel nodded and left without another word.

Gandalf cleared his throat. “While I have no doubt that your intentions are good, Harry, I do advise you to keep your magic use in Lothlórien to a minimum. Lady Galadriel, while kind and wise, has more reason than most to be wary of unsolicited magic.”

Harry gave him a understanding nod and a grateful smile before making his way back to his own room. He finished enchanting the mirrors for Arwen and Elrond and then went over his backpack, to make sure he had everything he needed. He kept his down jacket, a knit wool hat and a pair of lambskin gloves to the side as he packed everything else. As he considered Glorfindel’s usual wardrobe, Harry grabbed two clean washcloths and transfigured them into a pair of thick gloves. A small towel got turned into a wool hat similar to Harry’s own.

Lastly, Harry gave his broomstick a careful onceover, making sure all the twigs were in good condition. He cast a couple of diagnostic spells to make sure all the charms were still functioning as they should. It was a good idea to go over those things before embarking on a long journey over rough terrain.

A knock on his door announced Glorfindel’s arrival. Harry opened the door, backpack over his shoulder and broom in his hand. He smiled up at Glorfindel, looking forward to the time they’d be spending together. Harry was still awfully attracted to the elf, and though he had no intention of jumping Glorfindel’s body anytime soon, he simply enjoyed spending time with him as often as he could. And Harry was also genuinely curious about what Lothlórien looked like. From what he understood, it looked quite differently than Rivendell.

“I got you these,” Harry said, giving Glorfindel the hat and gloves. When Glorfindel gave the items a dubious look, Harry chuckled. “Trust me, you’ll want to wear them once we’re at altitude. It gets cold up there when you’re moving at high speeds.”

“Very well.” Glorfindel accepted the items and tucked them away on top of the bundle of clothes wrapped in a grey blanket he had hanging over his shoulder with a leather belt. He wore his sword on his belt and he had a few more knives than usual placed around his waist.

“I need you to navigate,” Harry said as he and Glorfindel strolled side by side through the corridors. “I have no clue how to get there, aside from crossing the mountains.”

“Are you speaking Westron again?” an outraged Erestor demanded as he appeared behind them.

“Lord Elrond insisted on it,” Glorfindel said smoothly before Harry could react. “Harry is to take a mission to Lothlórien on the behest of Lord Elrond and his family and we needed to be able to coordinate our travel plans.”

Erestor narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing a word Glorfindel was saying but also not wanting to go against the word of his leader. He harrumphed and shook his head. “Just for this mission then. But afterwards I’d best be hearing only Sindarin from you, Harry.”

“I promise,” Harry said in Sindarin before quickly walking away, unable to hold back a grin.

Glorfindel looked quite smug for a moment before giving Harry a more serious look. “As much as Erestor can be a pain in anyone’s behind, he is right about this.”

“I know, I know,” Harry said with a small sigh as they walked towards the dining hall where the midday meal was being served. They would have a bite to eat and leave immediately after. “I promise to go back to Erestor’s rigorous educational plans the moment we return from our trip.”

“That works for me,” Glorfindel said as they got in line for the buffet. “You are making remarkable progress. Just a few more weeks and you’ll be able to speak as fluently in Sindarin as you can in Westron.”

Bilbo waved them over once Harry and Glorfindel had their plates filled with flatbreads filled with stewed vegetables and cheese. The elves really were excellent cooks, able to turn simple ingredients into delicious meals.

“I envy you,” Bilbo said once Harry sat down across the table from him. “I have always wanted to see Lothlórien.”

“Perhaps, once I’ve met Lady Galadriel, she’ll let me return without an elven escort and then I could take you with me,” Harry suggested, because he wouldn’t mind taking a trip with Bilbo to explore more of Middle-earth. Glorfindel frowned a little at hearing that but didn’t protest, so Harry figured that at least was a good sign.

Bilbo got a rather constipated look on his face. “I would love to, but I’m not sure I would enjoy sitting on your flying broomstick very much. It looked like you were going very fast earlier. The wind would probably blow me right off.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Just for you, Bilbo, I’d go slower. We’d take a week to get there, but you wouldn’t have any reason to be afraid.”

Bilbo beamed at him, looking awfully satisfied with himself. “Then I’d gladly join you on a future trip sometime. For now, make sure you observe your surroundings closely so you can tell me all about it once you return.”

Right after their meal, Harry and Glorfindel stepped out into the garden where a small group of people stood waiting for them.

Elrond handed Harry a small bundle of letters, the names of each recipient written on the rough paper in Sindarin. “I have included a letter for Galadriel and Celeborn from myself, to explain who you are.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a deep nod. He didn’t think elves were the types to capture unwelcome visitors and throw them in a deep, dark dungeon for life, but who knew what other elven realms were really like. Not everyone could be as welcoming as Lord Elrond, after all. Harry offered Elrond one of the mirrors he’d enchanted and explained how they worked. “Keep it close and I’ll have Arwen call you as soon as she gets her mirror.”

Elrond nodded in gratitude and studied the mirror in his hands carefully.

Harry gave Bilbo a tight hug, promising to return in one piece. “We won’t be very long, Bilbo. A week at the most, but probably less than that. I’ve got the mirror I made for you so we can talk and I can even show you parts of Lothlórien as I walk through it.”

Bilbo’s eyes grew as wide as Harry had ever seen them. “That’s right! I’ve got the mirror. I’ll keep it on me the entire time you’re gone.”

Harry briefly lowered the broomstick to the grass as he pulled on his down jacket, his hat and his gloves. Then he gave Glorfindel a pointed look.

With a sigh, Glorfindel fastened his thick, blue cloak around himself and pulled the wool hat down over his golden hair. It looked rather ridiculous, but Harry managed not to laugh. Elrohir and Elladan made no effort whatsoever to hide their amusement and laughed outright.

“Oh, hush, lads,” Bilbo scolded mildly as he glared at the twins. “That looks like a fine hat. Harry should make me one when he returns. The winters in the Shire get plenty cold and such a hat would be a welcome addition to my wardrobe.”

Harry shook his head and quickly mounted his broom before Bilbo could make even more demands. Thanks to the hobbit Harry was apparently going to be a magical tailor on top of being a magical plumber. Glorfindel got on behind Harry without any comment and slipped on his gloves before winding his arms around Harry’s waist.

“You two are in charge of the Guard while I’m away,” Glorfindel said with a pointed look at Elladan and Elrohir. “There had best not be any problems once I return or there will be consequences.”

That sobered Elladan and Elrohir up enough that they both swallowed and quickly gave Glorfindel deep nods.

They said a few more goodbyes before Harry kicked off. He kept to a reasonable speed as they flew down the length of Rivendell, but as soon as Harry crossed over the cliffs he sped up towards the towering, snow-capped mountains in the distance.

“There shouldn’t be many orcs or goblins left near the high pass,” Glorfindel said loudly over the wind that whipped around them. “Most were wiped out in last year’s battle near Erebor.”

“I’ll keep a decent altitude anyway,” Harry yelled back because he did not feel like being shot out of the sky by some sort of fairy tale monsters anytime soon. The afternoon was clear and sunny, so they had a perfect visibility as they flew over the lower peaks. Harry didn’t dare fly over the higher mountains, since he was unsure how tall they were exactly. If they went too high up they would run out of oxygen and Harry wanted to prevent them falling to their deaths. So they followed the outline of the high pass. They saw plenty of wildlife. Mountain goats clattered straight up and down the rocky cliffs while any number of birds of prey soared around the valleys.

Glorfindel kept quiet for the most part, his arms constantly keeping pressure around Harry’s waist. Harry concentrated on getting them safely and quickly through the Misty Mountains. All in all, it took them a little over an hour to clear the mountain range, since Harry wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Just as they saw fields of green stretch out before them as the mountains grew smaller and smaller, a huge shadow flew over them. Harry banked sharply to the right and descended quite a bit while he glanced up to see what on earth could be flying over them that was big enough to make such an enormous shadow.

It was an eagle. A giant eagle, easily the size of a single propellor airplane.

“What the fuck,” Harry muttered in English as he quickly descended some more, not wanting to become eagle food. The bird might very well pluck them right out of the sky if it was feeling a bit peckish.

“They won’t hurt us,” Glorfindel yelled, just as Harry picked up speed again to get away from those enormous beasts. “They are merely curious. They aren’t used to seeing humans or elves fly.”

Harry swallowed and slowed down a bit so he could look at the eagles again. They were soaring overhead of them. Harry counted three now and all of them were looking at the broomstick with its two occupants with curious yellow eyes. They were amazing, Harry could admit that much now that he no longer feared for his life. He had a weak spot for eagles anyway, since it was his Animagus form, and seeing such huge ones really was a welcome sight. Harry remembered that early on, when he and Bilbo had been travelling to Rivendell, the hobbit had mentioned eagles and how they’d saved Bilbo and his dwarven friends by giving them a ride. At the time Harry had simply assumed that he had misunderstood Bilbo, since his understanding of Westron was still very much in development at the time.

But now that Harry saw the size of these eagles he had to admit that it was entirely possible that these beasts had carried people to safety on their backs.

“Hi!” Harry finally said with a quick wave. It never hurt to be polite. Behind him, Glorfindel chuckled and managed a quick wave of his own. One of the eagles released a sharp cry in return, which Harry assumed was some sort of greeting.

The eagles accompanied Harry and Glorfindel for another hour or so as they travelled south, gliding on the updrafts high above the ground.

Harry’s stomach was starting to rumble when they saw a river in the distance.

“That is the Gladden river,” Glorfindel called. “That is about the halfway point.”

“Then let’s call it a day and set up the tent there.” Harry descended quickly and touched down on a stretch of long grass beside a cops of trees, the river just a few yards away.

Glorfindel released a deep groan as he stepped off the broom. He stretched his hands over his head before taking off his hat, leaving his golden hair just a bit tousled. “It is a fast way to travel, but I cannot rate it highly for comfort.”

Harry stretched as well as he dropped his broom to the grass. “You’re not wrong. In my old world, very few people used it to travel long distances. Brooms are mostly used for fun and to play sports.”

While Harry got the tent out of his backpack and set it up with a few flicks of his wand, Glorfindel gave him a considering look. “I cannot imagine leaving my entire world behind.”

Harry’s answering smile was full of quiet sorrow. “My friend found that ritual decades ago. It took me that long to decide to leave. I waited until all the people dear to me had already passed on.” Harry walked around the tent and waved his wand around, casting a number of wards to protect them during the night.

Glorfindel didn’t speak until they both entered the tent and shed their outer clothing. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I would fare flying through the Misty Mountains.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his companion in a silent question.

“When I died,” Glorfindel said slowly as he stood in the middle of the tent. “I did so by falling off a mountainside. Before then, heights never bothered me. But since that moment I have not felt comfortable at great heights.”

“You should have said something,” Harry said at once, feeling very foolish indeed that he’d all but hauled Glorfindel onto his broom if the elf was afraid of heights.

Glorfindel quickly held up his hand to silence Harry. “I didn’t want you to know. I wanted to challenge myself, see how I would feel. And I managed it just fine. You are an excellent flyer and I had faith in you to keep us safe.”

Inexplicably, Harry felt his cheeks heat up at hearing Glorfindel compliment him in such an obvious manner. “Thanks,” Harry muttered and shuffled towards the kitchen. “Do you mind if I cook using magic? I’m really hungry and it takes a lot less time than cooking without it.”

“Be my guest,” Glorfindel said as he stepped closer to Harry, clearly curious to see how Harry would use magic to cook.

Harry pulled his wand out and set to preparing them a delicious meal. He pulled a small wild boar roast from the freezing cabinet, defrosted it with a spell and then roasted it with another spell. All in all, it took less than a minute to have a perfectly cooked roast ready to eat.

“That is fast,” Glorfindel said with an impressed curve of his brow. “And that smells delicious.”

Harry smiled at him and got two large potatoes, which he peeled, cut into chunks and roasted with magic. He sprinkled some salt and pepper on top of them and on top of the roast. Finally he opened and heated a small can of creamed corn. With a flourish of his wand, Harry summoned plates and cutlery and set the table in a flash.

“Would you like some wine?” Harry asked as he levitated the dishes to the table.

“You have wine from your old world?” Glorfindel asked as he sat down. “I would love to try some.”

“I do.” Harry opened up a cabinet and pulled out a crate that held an undetectable extension charm as well as a load of cushioning charms. He pulled out a bottle of red wine. “Don’t tell Bilbo I had wine this entire time,” Harry said as he popped the cork with a flick of his wand. He grabbed two glasses and carried them to the table. “We were almost robbed at sword point our first night in the wilds, and after that I didn’t dare drink alcohol just in case we were ambushed again.” Harry gave Glorfindel a cheeky grin. “But now I have a strong elf with a big sword to defend me, so I don’t mind getting a bit sauced.”

Glorfindel laughed as Harry poured them each a glass of wine. “My sword and myself will keep you safe from any brigands, though I doubt we have to worry about those out here in the wilds.”

Harry sat down opposite Glorfindel and urged his friend to fill his plate. They ate in silence for a while, but it wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, it was rather companiable, the air between them full of peace and a quiet understanding.

“I lost my home, too, though it is not quite the same as what you went through when you came here,” Glorfindel said once they were done eating. He reached for his wine and took a long sip. “In the first age, we built an amazing city hidden between mountains. I was one of its Lords and a good friend of mine, Turgon, became our king. It lasted nearly four centuries before it was destroyed.” Glorfindel frowned and stared down at the tabletop while he turned the glass of wine around in his hand. “It is strange, in some ways, how I still consider Gondolin my true home. I have lived in Imladris for thousands of years now, and I do consider it home as well. Yet it doesn’t hold the same place in my heart as Gondolin does.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “I know exactly how you feel. My first true home was Hogwarts, the magical castle where I went to school. Even after I left it and got a home of my own to live in, Hogwarts always remained my home in my heart.”

Glorfindel seemed pleasantly surprised that Harry understood this so well and gave him a warm smile.

“Though, as I got older, I’ve often thought that perhaps my feelings for Hogwarts were clouded by a lot of nostalgia,” Harry said, remembering the discussions he’d had about that very issue with Hermione.

“Elrond insisted it was nostalgia as well once or twice over the years,” Glorfindel said with a chuckle. “And perhaps he is right. I have forgotten the ever present threat of Morgoth that we faced in those days, how difficult it was to leave the city and travel to other places to visit distant kin and how Turgon cut us off from the rest of the world eventually.”

“Hogwarts was fraught with danger in the years I attended it,” Harry reminisced with a knowing smile. “I almost died there quite a few times while I was still just a child. Logically, I should despise the place, but no matter what happened, I still consider it home.”

Glorfindel nodded and took another long sip of wine. “I died as we fled from Gondolin, the city overrun by the forces of Morgoth. A Balrog came and I fought it, giving the others, including Turgon’s daughter, a chance to flee to safety. I lost many dear friends when Gondolin fell, and yet I cannot hate it as one might expect. For a time, it was a true home unlike any I’ve had before.”

Harry refilled their glasses of wine while Glorfindel kept talking. “It is different for you, though. I will see my departed friends again in Valinor one day.” Glorfindel gave Harry a look full of intense sadness. “You have lost your friends forever. I cannot imagine your sorrow.”

Harry shrugged and sipped his glass to give him a chance to consider his next words. “I miss them terribly. But ever since I figured out I was now immortal, I knew this was coming. I’ve had decades to prepare myself for it, to lose those closest to me. It still miss them, but once they were gone I was determined to move on in my own way. Find a new place to one day perhaps call home.”

“I certainly hope you have found it here in Middle-earth,” Glorfindel said with a small bow of his head. “It has been a pleasure to have you.”

Harry remembered how suspicious Glorfindel had been of him at first and quickly masked a disbelieving snort with a small cough. “Let’s hope Lady Galadriel will be just as welcoming as Lord Elrond has been.”

Glorfindel shrugged, leaning back in his chair with an unconcerned air about him. “If she is not, we shall simply return to Imladris and enjoy your company there.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Harry raised his glass of wine and Glorfindel clinked his own glass against it. They spent another hour or two sharing stories about Gondolin and Hogwarts and other adventures they’d had in their lives. It was a comfortable evening spent with someone Harry could now easily call a friend. He was still awfully attracted to Glorfindel, but he was still unsure how to approach that situation. The last thing he wanted was to ruin their growing friendship with a quick shag.

Did elves even have relationships with humans? Of course, Harry was no ordinary human, so perhaps whatever rules there were didn’t really apply to him. Still, Harry was determined to find out before he made a move on Glorfindel.

They finished off the bottle of wine between them before turning in for the night.

Their journey the next day was much the same as the previous day. It took them the whole morning to reach Lothlórien. A vast forest with enormous trees appeared on the horizon and at the urging of Glorfindel, Harry slowed his broomstick and descended to the edge of the forest.

There was magic in those woods, Harry noticed as he and Glorfindel dismounted the broom in between the trees. Harry could feel several layers of power that protected the forest.

“Best let me go first,” Glorfindel said as Harry kept a tight grip on his broom in case they were met with hostility and needed to make a quick getaway.

“Glorfindel, is that you?” a voice asked in Sindarin. A second later, a blond elf stepped out from behind a nearby tree, bow in his hand. “I did not recognize you in that strange hat.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Glorfindel pulled the hat off in one smooth motion, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious even if the hat had kept his head warm throughout their journey. “Greetings, Haldir.”

Haldir gave Glorfindel a small bow, keeping his bow close to his side, ready to engage as was expected of Lothlórien’s border guard. “Greetings, Lord Glorfindel. What brings you to the Golden Wood on this fine day?”

“This is Harry Potter, a human wizard who has made Imladris his new home. We are here to present Arwen with a gift on behalf of Lord Elrond.” Glorfindel carefully watched Haldir’s expression go from curious to alarmed to tentatively accepting of all the information Glorfindel gave him.

“Very well. I shall lead you to Lady Galadriel, so she may… meet this human wizard.” Haldir narrowed his eyes for a moment as he gazed upon Harry. Thankfully, Harry didn’t let Haldir’s less than welcoming attitude upset him. Harry simply nodded at Haldir with a pleasant little smile.

“Did you not ride Asfaloth, or have you retired him?” Haldir asked, glancing over his shoulder as he led the way deeper into the woods. Glorfindel knew the way around Lothlórien and could easily reach its centre on his own, but he allowed Haldir to do his duty instead of waving him off like he normally might do.

“Asfaloth is doing very well and he’s not anywhere near retirement age just yet,” Glorfindel said, keeping a close eye on Haldir’s reactions. “We did not travel here on horseback. We flew instead.”

Haldir did not disappoint in his reaction. He stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around on his feet while staring at Glorfindel with wide eyes. Behind Glorfindel, Harry almost ran into his back as he had been paying more attention to their surroundings than to the elves in front of him. “You…flew?” Haldir asked in a quiet voice full of disbelief. “Did the eagles bring you here perchance?”

Glorfindel bit back a grin, not wanting Haldir to think he was making fun of him. Apparently the story of how the eagles had saved Mithrandir and his party of dwarves just last year had reached Lothlórien at some point. “No, no, nothing like that. Harry is a powerful wizard who flew us here on his magical broomstick.”

Now Haldir narrowed his eyes in obvious suspicion, clearly convinced that Glorfindel was having him on. “Fine, don’t tell me how you travelled here. The Lady Galadriel will find out anyway, no matter what secrets you try to hide.” And with a sniff Haldir stuck his nose in the air and turned back around to resolutely continued their journey.

Glorfindel had no doubt that Galadriel would be able to tell whether Harry and himself were telling the truth. Galadriel had always been very perceptive like that, on top of knowing another’s mind by merely gazing at them. Then again, neither Glorfindel nor Harry had something to hide and their motivations for visiting Lothlórien were pure, so Glorfindel wasn’t worried too much.

The worst Galadriel might do was send them packing at once and in that case they’d simply return to Imladris and perhaps send someone else to deliver the mirror to Arwen. Elladan and Elrohir wouldn’t mind making the journey on horseback, Glorfindel was sure.

It did irk Glorfindel just a bit that he couldn’t quite predict what Galadriel’s reaction was going to be. He’d known Galadriel since they were both children in Valinor, as Glorfindel had grown up in the same social circles as she had. But Glorfindel had never been particularly close to Galadriel. He’d been very good friends with her cousins Turgon, Fingon and Aradhel, and he’d always gotten on well with Galadriel’s older brothers Finrod and Angrod. But he’d never gotten to know Galadriel as more than a young, wild and headstrong elf. Well, she was no longer young and she had calmed down a bit over the years, but she was still just as headstrong as she’d always been.

So how she was going to react to Harry was anyone’s guess.

Glorfindel glanced over his shoulder at his match. Harry was gaping up at the trees that were getting bigger and taller as they entered deeper into the woods.

“It looks amazing,” Harry said when he noticed Glorfindel staring at him, and then almost tripped over a tree root since he was hardly paying attention where he was going. Glorfindel gave him a warm smile, pleased to see Harry genuinely enjoy the natural beauty around them. And they hadn’t even reached the giant Mallorn trees of Caras Galadhon yet.

Darkness fell quickly deep into the forest, even though it was mid-summer and the sun was out for almost the entire evening.

“We will spend the night here,” Haldir said, gesturing at a rope ladder that hung down from a large Mallorn. “Late tomorrow morning we will reach Caras Galadhon where the Lady of the Golden Wood will await you.”

Harry shared a curious look with Glorfindel, who urged him to climb the ladder after Haldir, with Glorfindel bringing up the rear. They ended up on a flet, a large, wooden platform built into the tree’s crown. Harry looked around the platform for a bit before he reached inside his bag to pull out his tent.

Haldir watched with a guarded expression how Harry threw the rolled up tent down onto the platform and then flicked his magical wand to put it up. Harry tucked his wand away and held open the tent flap. “You sleeping with us,” Harry said in Sindarin, meanwhile giving Haldir an inviting smile and gesturing inside the tent. Glorfindel bit his lip so he wouldn’t burst out in laughter. Harry really was making excellent progress in learning Sindarin, but listening to him make small mistakes still amused Glorfindel to no end.

“I will sleep out here,” Haldir said, nose wrinkled just a bit at the thought of having to share a seemingly small sleeping space with an unknown human with potentially dangerous powers.

Harry shrugged, not at all bothered by Haldir’s refusal. “I make food now.” And with that, Harry disappeared inside the tent.

“Where did you find this wizard?” Haldir asked, leaning against the tree trunk while giving Glorfindel a measured look.

“We didn’t find him. He found us, thanks to Bilbo Baggins.” Glorfindel realized Haldir had no idea who that was. “He is the hobbit who accompanied Mithrandir and the dwarves to Erebor last year.”

“Ah.” Haldir looked like he wanted to say more but at that moment Harry stepped out of the tent, three steaming plates floating behind him, as well as a bunch of forks and knives.

“I make food,” Harry said with a glowing smile, floating a plate over to both Haldir and Glorfindel with a small gesture of his hand. “Nice food. Roast meat and potato.”

“Thank you,” Glorfindel said, accepting the plate while giving Haldir a pointed look.

“Yes, thank you.” Haldir looked like he was certain Harry had just roasted a pile of fresh manure and was trying to serve it to him, but he still accepted the plate. When Harry and Glorfindel both sat down across from each other on the platform, plates in their laps, Haldir followed their example. He waited until both Harry and Glorfindel had taken a bite of meat before he sampled his own plate. The food was excellent and even Haldir couldn’t find much to complain about, so he finished his meal without comment.

Afterwards, Harry sent the empty plates flying back into the tent and then got up, stretching himself for a minute. “I am being tired. I sleep.”

Glorfindel nodded in understanding. He wasn’t all that tired yet, since he’d had a decent night’s sleep just the previous day. Elves did not need as much sleep as humans did, so he was fine to stay up for a few more hours, or even the entire night. “Sleep well,” Glorfindel said while Harry gave him a quick wave before disappearing inside the tent.

“His powers are…curious,” Haldir said from where he stood at the other end of the platform, shrouded in shadows.

Chuckling, Glorfindel made his way across the platform to join Haldir. He was certain that Haldir meant to say that it was strange that an obviously powerful being used his magic to set up a tent and invite a guard to share it, and to cook food for his companions. Such mundane tasks would be below any of the more powerful individuals they knew, such as Saruman or Sauron. Even in times past the most powerful of the Eldar, such as Fëanor, Fingolfin or Eärendil hadn’t bothered with such simple chores when they could be using their powers for greater purposes.

Only Melian the Maia, Elrond’s great-great-grandmother, had spent time using her powers to teach the elves of Middle-Earth how to make Lembas. But other than that even she spent most of her powers protecting Doriath from the forces of Morgoth instead of offering her subjects more magical cooking classes.

No, Harry was quite unique in how he used his magic, something that pleased Glorfindel to no end. “Elrond let him create anything he wanted in Imladris.”

Haldir inhaled a sharp, alarmed breath as he gazed at Glorfindel with wide eyes.

“Harry made a bathhouse,” Glorfindel said with a fond little smile. “It has hot water on demand, as much as anyone would like. He has made pools with water that bubbles. And the walls are covered with the most realistic paintings with moving animals in them.”

“Why?” Haldir asked after a few moments of stunned silence. “Why would he use his powers for something like that?”

“Because he was forced to spend the night in Bree and he abhors filth as much as he average elf,” Glorfindel said and then laughed outright at Haldir’s stunned expression.

“I’ve not been to Bree myself,” Haldir said thoughtfully, staring straight ahead into the darkness around them. “But I’ve heard stories.”

“The point is,” Glorfindel said, leaning a bit closer to Haldir. “If you ask nicely, Harry will gladly build such a bathhouse in Lothlórien as well.”

“Ah.” A contemplative frown appeared on Haldir’s face. “If the Lady Galadriel allows it.”

“Of course,” Glorfindel agreed with a solemn nod. He knew only too well that nothing happened in Lothlórien without Galadriel’s permission. Which was exactly why he was trying so hard to convince Haldir that Harry was a kind and decent person. The more supporters Harry had the better.

Glorfindel spent another few hours talking with Haldir, exchanging news about Imladris and Lothlórien and the worrying reappearance of Sauron. Then he got a few hours of sleep inside the tent before Haldir called out to them at first light.

Harry, looking rather sleepy while his hair was even more tousled than usual, produced three steaming bowls of oatmeal with cups of tea, which they all ate in companiable silence. After Harry freshened himself up and folded up his tent they were ready to continue their journey to Caras Galadhon.

It took them all of the morning to reach the large city at the centre of the woods. Caras Galadhon had most of its buildings built into the giant Mallorn trees, with staircases and narrow rope bridges everywhere to connect it all together. It truly was a magnificent sight and no matter that Glorfindel had seen it dozens of times before, it still impressed and moved him.

“Wow,” Harry kept saying as he stared up at the giant trees in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. We had big trees in my world, but nothing like this.”

The trees were so big and their silver canopy so thick that no matter that it was midday during the summer, the bottom of the forest was shrouded in shadows, with barely any natural light penetrating this far down.

Glorfindel slowed his pace a bit and leaned down so he could whisper to Harry. “Keep the mirror ready. And also the letters from our friends back home.”

Harry swung his backpack around to his front and dug into it to search for the correct items. “Are you expecting trouble?”

Shrugging, Glorfindel looked around for a moment but Haldir was a ways ahead and appeared to ignore them. “Not trouble as such. But the Lady Galadriel can be a bit temperamental and if she decides to be difficult she might request us to leave at once.”

“Ah.” Harry found the mirror and bundle of letters and clutched them to his chest. “So basically toss these to Arwen and make a run for it if Galadriel gets difficult?”

“Precisely,” Glorfindel said with a chuckle, glad to see his match catch on so quickly.

“Okay, be ready to jump onto my broom then and I’ll fly us out here in no time,” Harry said and then frowned for a moment, as though unsure about what he’d just said. He ducked his head, though Glorfindel wasn’t sure why.

Haldir guided them up one of the bigger staircases that wound around the massive trunk of one of the largest Mallorn trees. At the top a richly decorated platform awaited them, that led directly into one of the reception halls. They never made it as far as the hall, however, because as soon as they reached the platform, Galadriel and Celeborn appeared.

Galadriel was radiant as always, shining with an inner light that few of the Eldar still living in Middle Earth possessed. She took her time gazing upon both Glorfindel and Harry while Haldir stepped to the side to stand guard. Harry shifted from foot to foot a few times but otherwise kept it together while being so obviously judged.

Just as Glorfindel was about ready to break the silence, even if that went against custom, Arwen appeared behind her grandparents, followed by a few of her attendants and friends.

“Glorfindel!” Arwen deftly stepped around her grandparents and swept forward to grab Glorfindel in a brief hug. “What news do you bring from home?”

Glorfindel smiled down at the beautiful elleth before him. Even though Arwen was an elf grown and already several millennia old, Glorfindel still saw her more often than not as the small, eager child that used to beg him to take her riding into the woods for hunting lessons. “All is well in Imladris, my Lady. I have come on behalf of your father, to offer you a gift.” Glorfindel gestured at Harry, who was still clutching those gifts to his chest. “This is Harry Potter, a human wizard who has made Imladris his home. He has made you a way to speak to your father, even while you are staying here.”

“I am pleased to meet you,” Harry said in accented Sindarin and then all but shoved the mirror and bundle of letters into Arwen’s hands. “You speak name of father in mirror, then you talk.” Harry looked over Arwen’s shoulder to Glorfindel and gave him a triumphant smile. Mission accomplished!

“Thank you,” Arwen said politely, though Glorfindel saw her shoulders stiffen ever so slightly as she accepted the gifts. He barely held back a sigh. Every single elf they met was going to have that reaction to Harry, weren’t they? Glorfindel was already well and truly sick of it, even though he remembered his own suspicions when he’d first met Harry. Perhaps that made him a bit of a hypocrite, but he just wanted people to understand what an amazing person Harry was.

It might be that Glorfindel was a bit biased when it came to Harry. Nowadays, at least.

“Glorfindel,” Galadriel said while she stared at him with narrowed eyes. “You have brought a magical being bearing gifts into our midst?”

Well, when you put it like that. Glorfindel inhaled a deep breath and prepared to convince one of the most stubborn and suspicious people he knew that Harry was completely harmless. “Both Elrond and Mithrandir have met Harry and have welcomed him to Imladris,” Glorfindel said with his friendliest smile, even though his insides were churning with nerves. “Harry has as of yet only used his powers for the betterment of everyone in Imladris.”

Harry stepped forward and gave Galadriel a short but polite bow. “I butcher onions and make warm water home,” Harry said in his best Sindarin, clearly done letting others speak for him. Harry very much was the type that would rather speak for himself, and Glorfindel appreciated that about him, usually.

“He slices onions as part of his work in the kitchens and he turned one of the empty residential buildings into an amazing bathhouse,” Glorfindel quickly translated.

“A bathhouse?” Arwen asked, looking at Harry with renewed interest.

“Yes,” Harry replied eagerly, though Glorfindel perhaps thought his Sindarin vocabulary wasn’t quite up to the job just yet. “I make many holes of water with warmth and gasses.”

Glorfindel ducked his head for a moment to hide his grin before he translated Harry’s answers. “It’s got hot water on demand and there are many baths and pools with water that bubbles. It’s very relaxing.”

“Oh.” Arwen looked thoughtful but her posture was now completely relaxed, much to Glorfindel’s relief. It seemed that the knowledge that her father accepted Harry was enough for her. “I shall look forward to visiting it when I return to Imladris.”

Someone who wasn’t so eager to accept Harry just yet was Galadriel. “Glorfindel,” she said, her voice taking on a steely note. “I would like a word with you. Alone.”

“Yes, my Lady.” Glorfindel dutifully followed Galadriel down a nearby staircase while Celeborn joined Arwen and Harry, asking Harry for some details about the bathhouse.

“He is not from this world,” Galadriel said in a harsh whisper as they walked onto a rope bridge.

“I am aware,” Glorfindel said, keeping his tone polite but firm. “Harry has only ever been honest about his past and about why he has come to Middle Earth.”

“His mind is nothing like I have seen before.” Galadriel stopped in the middle of the bridge and turned to glare at Glorfindel. “Most of it is hidden from my gaze.”

Ah. Now Glorfindel understood why Galadriel was so perturbed by Harry. Apparently Harry could protect his mind from Galadriel’s powers. “Mithrandir also gazed upon Harry’s mind and found nothing worrying there,” Glorfindel said, keeping his expression neutral even though a small, childish part of him couldn’t help but enjoy rubbing the fact that she’d never be as powerful as a Maiar into Galadriel’s face. Such were the pitfalls of working with those you knew as children, Glorfindel always found. Some part of you would forever remain a child whenever you dealt with them.

Galadriel narrowed her eyes to slits, as though she knew exactly what Glorfindel was thinking. She couldn’t be seeing it in his mind, because Glorfindel knew that ever since he’d been reborn his mind was almost completely protected from Galadriel’s powerful gaze. “If you cannot see his mind, you cannot be certain of his true motivations,” Galadriel insisted.

Though Glorfindel was tempted to shrug away Galadriel’s concerns, he reminded himself he was a Lord of considerable power and such behaviour was unbecoming to him. “I know Harry’s true motivations, because he shows them clearly with everything he does.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Galadriel’s expression transformed from one full of suspicion to one displaying nothing but sorrow. “We have been down this path before. We know what price we must pay for accepting magical gifts from strangers.”

“Harry isn’t Sauron in disguise,” Glorfindel said with conviction. He knew this for certain with every fibre of his being, because he knew Eru would never match him with an abomination like Sauron.

“You do not know the enemy like I do,” Galadriel said in a sharp voice while she clasped her hands together tightly. Glorfindel wondered if she even realized she was grasping so openly at Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, created by Celebrimbor but ultimately controlled by Sauron through the One Ring. Galadriel would have felt an intimate connection to Sauron, even if only for a moment, once the One Ring was forged and Sauron put it on.

“Perhaps,” Glorfindel said, voice still resolute. “But I know Harry more closely than anyone ever will.”

Galadriel’s eyes widened as she gave Glorfindel a searching look.

“He is my match,” Glorfindel confessed quietly. He didn’t mind anyone finding out since he was not ashamed of his match. Slightly baffled, still, but he had accepted the match that Eru had made for him. He just didn’t want any of this to get back to Harry just yet, before Glorfindel had a chance to explain everything himself. Because what Glorfindel feared the most was that Harry might reject the whole notion of having a match out of hand, without ever giving Glorfindel an honest chance to prove himself a worthy match.

“What have you done to displease Ilúvatar that he has given you such an ill match?” Galadriel wondered out loud while giving Glorfindel a pitying look.

“There is nothing ill about our match.” Glorfindel drew himself up a bit, glaring down at the elleth in front of him, genuinely insulted by Galadriel’s words.

“Perhaps not,” Galadriel said, a bit more diplomatically than before, perhaps noticing she’d genuinely upset Glorfindel. “But no matter what you feel about this wizard, I have a duty to my people. I have to protect Lothlórien.”

Glorfindel understood all too well where this was going. “How about I promise we’ll be out of Lothlórien by sundown today.”

Galadriel perked up and gave Glorfindel a grateful smile. “That is agreeable. I thank you for considering the difficult position I am in.”

Smiling, Glorfindel gave Galadriel an agreeable nod. Galadriel probably expected them to leave Caras Galadhon at once to trek through the woods for the rest of the day if they were to cross the borders before sundown. Obviously they were going to do no such thing. An hour before sundown, Glorfindel would tell Harry to get out his broom and they would simply fly out of there. Which meant they had plenty of time to spend with Arwen and the other visitors from Imladris, which is what they had come for in the first place.

“I shall return to my companion, to tell him of our decision,” Glorfindel said with a small bow, and then he turned on his feet and left before Galadriel could say anything else.

He found Harry in the company of Arwen and the other Imladris elves. Arwen was speaking to her father and brothers through the mirror while Harry chatted with Naniel, Gaeven’s wife, who also spoke fluent Westron. Linnadis, who was Raithon’s wife, listened attentively but didn’t speak much since her Westron was about as good as Harry’s Sindarin.

Glorfindel observed Harry for a few moments before announcing his presence. He took in Harry’s sparkling green eyes, his wild, black hair and his bright smile as he gestured enthusiastically while explaining the laundry facilities he’d created for Narthrien and her colleagues. How anyone could ever think Harry was any sort of an ill match was ridiculous. Harry was a person full of joy and compassion, yet he had an iron will and a spine of the hardest steel, Glorfindel could easily see that.

No, Galadriel was completely off the mark with her assessment of Glorfindel’s match. Eru had without question smiled down on Glorfindel by giving him Harry to share his life with.

Harry noticed him lurking about first and he gave Glorfindel a questioning look. “What’s the verdict?”

“We’re to leave Lothlórien by sundown.” Glorfindel stepped closer while giving the others a few nods in greeting.

“Oh, so not that bad. Plenty of time to socialize today,” Harry said and then sat up as though suddenly remembering something. “I’d best give Bilbo a short tour now before I forget.” And with that, Harry reached inside his bag and pulled out another mirror. Before long Harry walked around with the mirror facing outwards, giving Bilbo a perfect view of their impressive surroundings from the platform they were gathered on.

“Oh lad,” Bilbo sighed while Harry hurried towards yet another amazing view. “Never in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined seeing the Golden Wood.”

“It was nice to hear from Gaeven,” Naniel said as she stepped closer to Glorfindel, the letter from her husband tucked beneath the slim belt around her waist. “Harry told us you two flew here in only a day.” Naniel looked as though she wasn’t entirely sure if Harry had been exaggerating or not, but when Glorfindel nodded in confirmation she gave him a pleading look. “Do you think perhaps you two could come visit again soon, to deliver more letters? I love staying in Lothlórien, but we do miss hearing from our husbands and friends back home.” Naniel released a deep sigh. “Especially now that the enemy has returned.”

Harry, who’d shuffled by with his mirror still held in front of him, stopped at once and gave Naniel a wide-eyed look. “Get me some wood and I can make sure you can exchange as many letters as you want.”

Much to her credit, Naniel didn’t doubt Harry’s offer for a second. “What kind of wood?” she asked at once.

“Doesn’t matter. Two small logs will do.” Harry turned the mirror around and gave Bilbo an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to cut the tour short, but we haven’t got much time and I need to make something right away.”

“What are you making?” Bilbo asked, unable to curb his curiosity as usual.

Harry’s wide smile was just a bit maniacal, as though he was close to bursting with enthusiasm. “Magical letter boxes. Two of them. One to keep here, and one in Imladris. You put a letter in one and it will appear in the other and vice versa.”

“Ingenious!” Bilbo made a shooing motion with his free hand while the mirror wobbled in his grip. “Go on, make your magical boxes. Thank you for the tour, it was more than I ever expected to get.”

Naniel gestured Linnadis over and together they hurried down a nearby staircase. They returned quickly, each carrying a small log of light wood.

“Perfect,” Harry said, getting comfortable on a wooden bench while he got his wand out. “I should have these done in an hour or two. The magical inscriptions take the most time.”

Glorfindel sat down beside him and watched in awe how Harry waved his wand around and transformed both logs into wooden boxes with hinged lids. He knew what sort of magic Harry was capable of, had seen the results plenty of times, but it was still miraculous to see Harry’s magic happen before his eyes.

For the next few hours Harry worked hard to inscribe hundreds of small symbols into the boxes, inside and out. Glorfindel didn’t mind one bit sitting quietly beside his match, watching him completely fixated on his work.

Just as the boxes seemed close to completion, Galadriel appeared, giving Glorfindel a disapproving frown. “I had thought you an elf of your word,” Galadriel said, staring down at Glorfindel with a cool expression. “Yet you are still here while you should be well on your way by now if you’re to keep your promise.”

“We’ll be out of here before sundown,” Glorfindel said with a knowing little smile. “I am an elf of my word.”

“Done!” Harry sat back with a satisfied sigh and only then seemed to notice Galadriel standing in front of them. “We still have time before we have to leave, right?”

“Plenty,” Glorfindel said while keeping his gaze fixed on Galadriel.

“What were you done with, wizard?” Galadriel seemed to understand that Glorfindel knew something she didn’t and she obviously decided to ignore him from now.

“Magical letter boxes!” Harry proudly proclaimed, not even bothering with Sindarin. “This way you can easily exchange letters with the people in Imladris.” Harry got a thoughtful frown on his face. “I could even try to make a pair of vanishing cabinets, though those are prone to breaking. It’s a lot more difficult to instantly transport people than letters. Someone at my school once got stuck inside one of them and only got out by apparating himself inside a toilet where he got stuck again. Yeah, perhaps it’s best not to bother with those and just stick with letter boxes.”

Galadriel slowly closed her eyes, as though having to decipher Harry’s deluge of words was physically taxing for her. Glorfindel only found Harry’s occasional verbal avalanches amusing.

“Thank you, Harry,” Arwen said as she joined them, apparently noticing her grandmother’s less than enthusiastic response to Harry’s latest gift. “We shall gladly use the letter box.” She accepted the box Harry handed to her with a genuine smile, Glorfindel was happy to see. Arwen and her companions seemed eager to accept Harry, which was the most important thing. Ultimately it didn’t matter what the elves of Lothlórien thought of Harry. Only those from Imladris could truly make life difficult for Harry if they refused to accept him, but so far that wasn’t the case at all.

“I do believe you have given enough gifts, wizard,” Galadriel said as she opened her eyes again to give Harry an unforgiving look.

“Perhaps we should go,” Glorfindel said, since it seemed that Galadriel was genuinely close to losing her patience and the last thing Glorfindel wanted to do was truly anger the Lady of the Golden Wood. He’d seen Galadriel overcome with rage on the battlefield a time or two and he had vowed to avoid upsetting her ever since.

“Sure,” Harry agreed at once, clearly also noticing the shifting mood. He picked up the second letter box and shoved it down his backpack. It shouldn’t be able to fit through the small opening, but somehow it did. The next thing Harry did was pull his broomstick out of the bag, which shouldn’t be able to fit in there, either, but Glorfindel was aware if was best not to question these things when it came to his match.

“Arwen, it was a pleasure seeing you again,” Glorfindel said with a short bow while Harry got onto his broom, much to everyone’s confusion. Only Haldir, who was lurking in the shadows nearby, seemed to realize what was about to happen, though his expression was full of disbelief.

“Thanks for having us,” Harry said, giving Galadriel his brightest smile. “Ready?” he asked while looking up at Glorfindel.

“Yes.” Glorfindel sat down behind Harry on the broomstick and wound his arms tightly around Harry’s waist. He knew his match well enough by then that he had a pretty good idea what Harry was about to do.

Arwen and Galadriel shared a confused look while Harry gave everyone a little wave. Then he leaned forward, grabbing a firm hold of the broomstick and they shot straight up into the air at a speed Glorfindel didn’t know was even possible.

Harry cackled with laughter while he steered them around enormous branches and rope bridges until they were surrounded by silver leaves. Only then did he slow down a bit to guide them safely through the smaller branches at the top of the trees until they saw the clear blue sky again. The sun wasn’t anywhere close to setting yet, but they were better off leaving before they’d truly outstayed their welcome.

Slowing the broomstick down a bit, Harry leisurely flew them over the canopy in the direction of the Misty Mountains. “That was fun,” Harry said, aiming a smile over his shoulder at Glorfindel.

“Yes, it was.” Glorfindel tightened his arms around Harry’s waist for a second while he relaxed against Harry’s body. “Let’s go home.”